


Stark Pursuit

by Saltrova



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, On the Run, Sansa is stubborn AF, Sweetling, Underage - Freeform, little bird, runaway teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 41,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10855434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltrova/pseuds/Saltrova
Summary: "It’s not running away if I’m coming right back once I’m done."





	1. Sandor

“Shit!” Sandor cursed vehemently as he violently slammed down on the brakes as a blur of red flashed past his vision, directly into the path of his truck. The truck jolted to a stop and he slammed open the door and jumped out, swearing under his breath. “Just what I needed! Some creature becoming roadkill underneath my wheels.”

He stalked to the front of the truck, ignoring the apprehension that crept up at what he might find, then swore again.

A figure lay face down on the ground, shiny auburn hair igniting into blazing copper under the sun. _What a waste if she’s dead,_ he thought, mesmerized by her hair. The girl had the willowy thinness of youth and a fierce headache started to pound at the thought that he had killed a kid.

There was a book bag on her back, the zipper had opened and he could see clothes stuffed into it, along with shoes, toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.

_A runaway._

Sandor closed his eyes to gather patience or strength he wasn’t sure, before he moved closer to the body. He used the tip of his steel toe boots to to nudge it slightly, then stepped back as the figure on the ground jerked and then slowly straightened itself into an upright sitting position.

“I thought I was dead,” said the girl who apparently was very much alive. “I was scared to move and find out until you kicked me.”

He stared dumbfounded at her, before blind rage swooped in. “You fucking idiot!” he cursed her. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to run into the street like a fool?” 

Her pretty face paled under his anger. “I wasn’t trying to get hit by a car,” she stated. “And I didn’t run into the street like a fool. I had enough time but I didn’t realize how fast you were speeding.” She crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t have been speeding.”

He wanted to roar at the pretty little fool about how lucky she was that she hadn’t been turned into an ugly little roadkill.

“Get up and get into the truck or I’ll leave you here,” he rasped. “You need to go to a hospital or something.”

“I don’t need to,” she replied stubbornly. “I’m just shaken up. I was terrified.” She struggled to her feet, swaying slightly.

Sandor could see that she was in a daze, so he grabbed her arm and led her into the passenger side of the truck, slamming the door shut after her, before making his way to the driver’s seat.

“Can you explain why you ran into the street like a dimwit?” he barked, anger still pumping through his veins. 

She hesitated, shooting him a searching look, before she spoke. “I found out my brother’s alive.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and Sandor struggled to hear her. Even out of his good ear it was difficult. “What, girl?” he growled.

“My brother.” She glared up at him, a scowl on her face, before she looked back down.

“Does he live nearby?” Sandor demanded.

The girl looked up again, her scowl deepening before she finally answered. “No.” Her voice was defiant.

“Then I have to take you back to wherever you ran away from. Either that or I drive you to the police station since you’re refusing to go to the hospital.” He looked at her, waiting for her to make her decision.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Take me back home."

She told him the address and Sandor whistled. A little rich girl. “What’s a little rich girl like you doing running away from home?” he asked.

“Shut up,” was the only reply she offered him.

The girl’s bottom lip was faintly quivering so he decided to ignore her rudeness. As they drove in silence, a thought came to him. “Hey, you’re not being abused or anything…?” The question hung in the air as the silence stretched out.

“I just want to see my brother.” The words were thrown at him before she jumped out of the truck as soon as he pulled up in front of the address that she had supplied. She wiped angry tears from her eyes as she stormed down the circular driveway. 

Sandor waited until she had safely (if angrily) slammed inside before pressing down on the gas and driving off.


	2. Sansa

Sansa was sitting in the study chair, typing away furiously on the computer when Uncle Petyr entered. He stopped in the doorway, “How was your day?” he questioned.

“Fine,” she mumbled, not looking up from her typing. She heard him approach and kept her focus on the computer, although she stiffened slightly. 

His fingers were in her hair, gently stroking it for a few seconds before he spoke. “I heard that you had an interesting day today.” 

She stayed silent as his fingers continued to run through her hair.

“Who dropped you off?” His tone was serious enough to make her turn around. His grey-green eyes studied her intently. 

“I had a little accident when crossing the street,” she admitted. “This man hit me with his car — just barely!” Sansa quickly amended as Petyr’s eyes darkened. “It was hardly a bump. He stopped right in time… but he drove me home afterward because he felt awful.”

Petyr leaned down and pressed a small kiss to her lips. “The thought of losing you pains me beyond belief. I am glad that you’re alright, sweetling.”

She smiled. “I’m fine, really,” she assured. She turned back to the computer screen, relieved that he was not angry about her carelessness. They were all each other had since she was thirteen.

“What’s on your mind, sweetling? You seem tense,” he said.

He always seemed able to read her mind. Sansa bit her bottom lip nervously, watching as his eyes were drawn to the movement. “Petyr,” she started. “Remember how I came to your office yesterday asking to borrow your hot-glue gun? You told me I could use it if I found it and then the doorbell rang and you were called away… I was looking for it — I wasn’t trying to be nosy but I came across the report on… on-on-Jon.” The name escaped her lips in a little whimper and Petyr’s body went as taut as a bowstring.

“I’m sorry,” she said sensing his ire. He remained silent so she went on.

“I took the paper,” she whispered. Petyr looked disappointed and tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I didn’t mean to go behind your back but this is extremely important to me.” She pulled the paper out of her book bag and handed it to him. She didn’t reveal that she had made several copies.

“Shhh,” he finally soothed her, wiping away the tears that had spilled. “Don’t waste your tears over this. I forgive you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Were you going to tell me about Jon being alive?” Sansa’s bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I was. When the time was right. I had to wait first to make sure that having him in your life was the best thing for _you._ ”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she questioned, puzzled. 

“Because he’s a stranger, sweetling. A stranger that has not been in your life for many years. You’re holding on to a memory hoping that this strange man will live up to the boy that you remember him as. But the boy that he was never even liked you. What will the man that he has become think of you?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sansa lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind was on her long lost brother. It had been years since she had last seen him. And all of those years were spent believing that he was dead. A sob rose up unbidden and she tried to clamp it down, but more escaped. Soon terrible sobs were raking her body. 

She turned her face into her pillow, trying to muffle them, but the door to her room opened and she sensed Petyr standing in the doorway staring at her. Her breath caught as she heard his footsteps make their way across the room to her bed and then he was sliding in behind her, gathering her in his arms and holding her against him.

“It pains me to see you so sad. Tell me what hurts you so that I can fix it.”

Another sob escaped her throat. She didn’t want to anger Petyr by bringing Jon up again but her lips quivered and he was waiting for a response. “Jon. I just want to see him.” She trembled and stiffened as she waited for his reaction.

His body tensed even as he sighed. “My sweet Sansa, in due time you will be allowed to reunite with him. But not right now. He’s only your half brother and you two were never close. What if he rejects you? What if he resents the fact that he suddenly has a little half sister who wants to be in his life? I would never allow him to hurt you. I will meet with him first and get to know how he feels about you before I ever allow him to step foot into your presence. You know that your safety comes before anything else.”

Sansa melted against him even as her brows scrunched up. “Jon will never do that. He won’t reject me. He’s my _brother_.” But there was the tiniest of doubt now planted and lingering.

* * * * * * * * * *

She awoke with the sun shining in her face and a weight pressing against her back. Sansa flipped over, revealing the form lying next to her. Petyr had stayed in her bed to comfort her last night. 

She noticed that he was awake and favored him with a smile. “Good morning,” she told him before stretching.

He returned her smile and waited until she had stretched before he playfully pounced on her.

She allowed him to capture her lips in a soft kiss as his weight gently pressed her into the mattress.

Sansa put her hand on his chest when his kiss stretched on longer than she was comfortable with. But he deepened the kiss rather than ending it. 

“Petyr. Uncle Petyr,” she whined. She usually didn’t struggle against his kisses but he didn’t tend to get carried away like this. She felt anxious as he smothered her in them, moving from her neck to the top of her bosom then devouring her lips again. It had felt nice at first, but it was quickly becoming too much. She let out a small sigh of relief as he finally lifted his weight off of her.

“Sorry, sweetling. You looked so beautiful this morning I couldn’t resist. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

His grey-green eyes twinkled at her and she found her anxiety dissipating as she sat up. “No. It’s fine now,” she answered.

He softly ran his fingers through her locks, then moved her hair out of her face, gifting her with a light kiss before he wished her a good morning and exited her room.

Sansa jumped up, heading to her bathroom to wash. She needed to get to the library again for another day of research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone with these new characters. Don't kill me.


	3. Sandor

“For fuck sake!” Sandor cursed, wondering if the fates hated him that much that they would allow this to happen to him twice in a row. Another blur of red had rushed right past his truck but this time he slammed on the brakes well within a few feet of her. 

He slammed opened the door and jumped out, his blood boiling as he stormed over to the front of the vehicle. “Are you mental, girl?” he roared.

She looked up at him defiantly, her crystalline eyes blazing, the fear from last time gone. “There isn’t any traffic light here,” she defended. “I tried to make it. And I did. You didn’t hit me so I don’t know why you’re angry.”

Her chin jutted out and Sandor wanted to grab her and shake her. “You’re crazy.” His huge finger jabbed in front of her face. “And next time I see you running wildly into this street I’m going to call the police so that they can lock you up in a juvenile cage.”

Her rose colored lips fell open. “You can’t do that! I’m not a criminal,” she protested indignantly.

He didn’t offer her a reply as he made his way back to his truck.

“Can you drive me somewhere?” she asked, scrambling up. 

Sandor looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Did your parents teach you that it’s okay to go around hitchhiking rides from strangers?” 

She flushed. “You drove me home safely yesterday,” she pointed out. 

He snorted. “It was stupid of you to get into my truck.” 

The girl was not deterred. “Please?” she added.

“Drive you where?” he snapped. 

“I want to mail a letter to my brother but I don’t want my uncle to know.” 

“Why can’t he know?” Sandor rasped.

“Uncle Petyr doesn’t really know him, so he doesn’t trust him,” she supplied.

“Get in the truck,” Sandor grunted.

The girl swung open the passenger side door, settling into the seat and shutting the door, then she turned to him and beamed.

She was absolutely dazzling, Sandor marveled. Way prettier than his mind had recalled. And way too damn young. “How old are you, girl?” he demanded.

“I’m about to be sixteen in a few months. My birthday’s late.” She shrugged.

“What’s your name?” he wanted to know, realizing that she had preoccupied his thoughts since yesterday and he had no idea what her name was.

“Sansa,” she told him.

“Sansa,” he repeated, turning the name over in his mouth. It soothed her. “You’re more like a bird,” he informed her. “Always trying to flutter off somewhere. Flutter to an early grave maybe. This is the second time that you nearly turned to mush beneath the wheels of my truck.”

Sansa glared at him. “What’s _your_ name anyway?” she turned the table on him.

“Sandor,” he told her.

“Interesting,” she replied, and then fell silent.

He drove her to the post office and parked. “You better hurry up before I drive off without you, _little bird_ ,” he rasped at her. 

She lifted an eyebrow at the nickname and then grinned as she exited the truck; her long legs quickly closing the distance to the building.

Sandor watched her disappear inside and then leaned back against his seat already impatient. He cranked up the music to pass time as he crossly wondered why he had agreed to this. Apparently all it took for him to lose his mind was a beautiful, innocent face.

The little bird reentered the truck fifteen minutes later. “Sorry about the delay,” she said, looking sheepish. “I had to wait in line.”

Sandor grunted in response and revved up the truck engine. “Since you invaded my truck, you’re going to wait in it as I drop off these packages,” he announced to her. 

She shrugged. “Just hurry. My uncle worries easily and I have been at the library for _hours_.”

The sky was dark by the time he finished running his errands and the beautiful brat in the passenger seat had fallen asleep after hijacking his radio and putting on some bubblegum pop noise that she claimed was music. He stopped in front of her circular yard and shook her awake. “Get up, little bird. And get out. We’re back at your cage.”

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and scowled at him. He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him as she grumbled a dirty word before jumping out of the truck. Once she had entered the house, and shut the door behind her, he drove off.


	4. Sansa

“Do you want to go to the beach?”

Sansa looked up at her uncle, her brows wrinkling. “Aren’t you too busy?” she asked worriedly.

“I made some time for you. I want you to have some fun. I know you have been stressed this week,” he said.

“Well if you _insist_ ,” she declared, pretending to roll her eyes, but a wide grin had spread across her face.

“I bought you a new swim suit,” he told her, holding out a package that had been hidden behind his back. “It has already been washed so try it on.” 

Sansa flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, Uncle Petyr,” she said, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and hurrying up to her room.

She held up the bikini top and bottom, taking in the creamy white material with grey stripes. It was beautiful. She quickly discarded her clothing and stepped into the swimwear, admiring it in the mirror. She knew that Petyr would want to see it so she slipped on a t-shirt and went downstairs to his office. She knocked on the door. “It’s me,” she announced.

“Come in,” was his immediate reply.

Sansa entered the office and shut the door behind her. His eyes didn’t leave her as she lifted the t-shirt over her head and pulled it off. “Do you like it?” she asked nervously because he had gone silent.

“Oh sweetling,” he finally said, his voice sounding choked. “Come here.”

She walked across the room to him and he pulled her onto his lap. She tried to ignore the fact that she was only in a bikini as he kissed her, his lips demanding a response from hers until she gave in.

There was fire in his eyes as he finally released her lips and stared up at her. “You are exquisite,” he said.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

He stole another kiss before dismissing her to finish preparing for the beach.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sansa felt her heart soar as she took in the sparkling water on the nearly empty beach. It was a private beach, only opened to the wealthy residents whose homes bordered it. She spread out her beach mat on the clean sand before planting the large umbrella into the sand to provide shade. Once everything was settled into place, she stretched down on her mat and closed her eyes blissfully.

“You were excited to come to the beach just to sleep?” Petyr’s voice teased her.

She popped her eyes open to see that he had placed his mat close to hers and was also stretched out on it. “I’m not sleeping,” she clarified. “I’m taking it in.” She heard him chuckle as she shut her eyes again.

When the peacefulness nearly lulled her to sleep, she sprung up from her mat, ready to enjoy the beach. The pretty sand called to her, so she picked up the small bucket and shovel near her mat, then hurried over to the water. Once the bucket was filled, she found an area to start digging.  


Sansa lowered herself to her knees, using the small plastic shovel to dig a large sized water hole in the sand. Once she was satisfied with the water puddling at the bottom of the hole, she shoveled some clean sand into the bucket of water blending the two, then she poured the mixture into the middle of the hole, leaving space between the mound of sand and the edge of the hole. Next she went to work packing the sand and securing them together by creating bridges.

Sansa tested the sturdiness of the sand, gently adding pressure to see if it would collapse, once she assured herself that it would not, she focused all of her effort into sculpting the sand into the picture her mind had conjured up. Slowly but surely her sand sculpture started to take shape, which encouraged her to double her efforts.

“Do you want some help?” she heard Petyr ask. He had crept up so close in the sand without her being aware. “You don’t even know what it is,” Sansa replied as she worked.

“I do. It’s your childhood home, isn’t it?” he asked.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. 

“Here, let me help you,” he said. He knelt in the sand beside her and together they labored over the sand house. She giggled when he rubbed sand into her hair. “I guess you will have to enter the water after all,” he tsked, his grey-green eyes filled with playful mischief.

“I guess you will have to too,” she retorted as she surprised him with a handful of sand that she caked into his hair. 

He laughed and she joined him, breathless as he wrestled her to the sand and tickled her. They soon went back to the sand sculpture, giving it their undivided attention until it was complete, then they both stood back and admired their work. 

In Sansa’s mind, it resembled the home that she used to live in with her family as a little girl. “Thank you, Petyr,” she said, turning to him and smiling shyly.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Anything for you, sweetling.”

Sansa turned back to the sand replica of her childhood home, feeling a mixture of pride, warmth, and an underlying sadness at the reminder of what she had lost. Determined to shake off the sadness, she turned to Petyr. “Race you to the water!” she challenged, and took off running.


	5. Sandor

_Admit it, you’re hoping to see her._ “Shut up,” Sandor growled, ignoring the fact that he was talking to himself. He also ignored the fact that he had driven to the library that the little bird always seemed to be walking home from whenever he ‘bumped’ into her or _nearly_ bumped into her with his truck. 

Sandor found himself parking in front of the library, wondering if she was still there. He was about to drive off when he saw her hurrying down the steps, her remarkable hair blazing as vividly as fire under the sunlight. He smirked when he realized that in fifteen minutes she would be at the spot where she usually nearly became pulverized meat at the front of his truck.

He honked the horn and she looked up, recognition dawned across her face, and she immediately walked over. Sandor unlocked the passenger side door so that she could hop in.

“Post office please? I need to check my P.O. Box.”

“To see if your brother wrote back?” he guessed even as he headed in the direction of the post office. 

“Yes,” she replied as she buckled herself in.

“If he cares so much about you, why hasn’t he tried to contact you himself?” he asked her.

She turned on him, fury raging in her captivating eyes. “You shut up about my brother!” 

He chuckled, which only increased her anger. The spitfire jumped out as soon as his wheels stopped spinning in front of the post office, and angrily hurried inside. By the time she reentered the truck, her anger was gone, although her face was crestfallen and she refused to speak to him.

He ignored her just as easily as she ignored him and proceeded to drop off the packages that were loaded in his truck. After his third stop, he entered the truck to find her chewing nervously on her plump lower lip. He dragged his gaze from her tantalizing lips back to her eyes.

She looked at him as he started driving. "What happened to your face, Sandor?"

By the quiet, tentative way she asked, he could tell that it had been on her mind for a while and she had only just drummed up the courage to ask. He briefly turned his head towards her before refocusing on his driving. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

“No,” she answered.

He shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you, little bird.”

She turned to look out of the window, her hands clutched around her book bag.

"I hope that you've smartened up and you're still not trying to run away,” he rasped at her. 

She ignored him and continued to silently stare out of the window. “It’s not running away if I’m coming right back once I’m done,” she finally retorted stubbornly.

Sandor kept stealing glances at her as he drove towards his next drop off. By the time he started towards her house to drop her off, she was curled up in the corner, asleep.

He wanted to lean down and steal a kiss from those tempting rose colored lips, darker but just as enthralling as her auburn hair that flamed a bright copper when the sun hit it. “Oh, little bird,” he moaned as he felt himself harden. She was such a beautiful, willowy, wisp of a girl. Perfect in every way with legs that went on forever.

Young and innocent and way too naive the way she continued to hop into his truck. How did she know that he wasn’t simply trying to win her trust before stealing her away? He shut his eyes as her arresting crystalline eyes that contrasted vividly with her flaming curtain of hair filled his mind. “Fuck,” he rasped.

Before he could think clearly he parked his truck near her house, then reached over and pulled the sleeping figure into his lap. He might as well have one happy memory. _No one ever said that I was a good guy._ She was already angry at him, why not give her another reason to be angry? Maybe if she hated him he would finally be able to get her out of his head. 

He moved back the hair that framed her heartbreaking face as she stirred in her sleep. “Little bird,” he rasped, and she woke with a start, her eyes widening as she realized where she was. She tried to move off of him but his grip on her tightened. “It’s alright. I just want to hold you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He stroked her hair, loving the feel of the luxurious strands until her stiff body began to relax in his arms. Then he turned her so her widened eyes were staring into his before lowering his face and stealing the kiss he had wanted to steal since the first time he lay eyes on her.

Her body immediately stiffened up again and he lifted his hands to rub his palms down her rigid arms. His lips were insistent against hers, plying at her soft rosebud lips until they softened against his. He deepened the kiss, devouring her until he felt like he was drowning in the essence of her. She was everything innocent and pure. Everything life had denied him.

When he finally withdrew from her, his breathing was harsh and sharp and she was silent, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, little bird,” he rasped, his finger running along her slightly swollen lips.  


He lifted her from his lap and gently dropped her back into her seat before he resumed driving. The rest of the drive was in silence. He shot a look of regret at her forlorn form hunched up in her seat. She had compressed herself so tightly it seemed as if she was trying to make herself small enough to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a new chapter up later today if my laptop doesn't start acting up again


	6. Sansa

Sansa’s mind had been filled with turmoil since she arrived home. She hadn’t been able to focus on anything and had immediately gone straight to her room and lain in bed, even declining dinner. She touched her lips, her thoughts on what had transpired earlier in the truck, before her hand fell back down and she stared blankly at the ceiling, her mind still whirling.

The door to her room flung open suddenly without so much as a warning knock, and Sansa sat up to find Petyr standing there, an inscrutable mask on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him uneasily. There was an intensity about him that unsettled her. “Petyr, what happened?” she tried again.

He didn’t say anything until he sat on her bed. “Come.”

She sat up and edged to where he was. She didn't resist as he pulled her into his lap, his eyes boring into hers.

“You did something very worrisome today,” Petyr said quietly, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek.

“What did I do?” she asked, her heart starting to pound.

His eyes didn’t break connection with hers as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Sansa held herself still as she waited for him to finish and answer her.

“I heard that you were being naughty with a stranger,” he finally murmured against her ear. “Is it the same man that dropped you off before?”

His eyes had darkened in a way that frightened her and she didn’t know what to say. Her silence seemed to confirm whatever that he was thinking.

“I’ve been so patient with you, sweetling. Given you time. All the while you have been playing me for a fool and giving some other man your favors.” His voice was icy and angry.

Angrier than she had ever heard it. 

“No!” Sansa shook her head fervently. “Uncle Petyr, he kissed _me_. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me.” But her uncle wasn’t listening as his lips crashed violently down on hers, stealing her breath away.

She felt her body being pushed down on the bed and then his weight was on her, crushing her, before it lifted and his hands started pawing at her. Touching and rubbing her all over before his concentration moved to her clothes. 

Sansa felt overwhelming dismay as he started pulling her clothes from her body. The sound of tearing fabric filled her ears and she panicked; the scream that had built up in her mind exploding from her lungs. 

"Please! Please!" her pleas were frantic as she flailed wildly, sobs ripping from her chest.

Her knees connected with his groin and he backed away, his eyes widening in horror. "Sweetling. I am so sorry."

Uncle Petyr sounded mortified, and her sobs calmed. She trembled as he approached her, but he only wrapped her up in his arms, holding her gently and murmuring, "sorry," into her hair. She clung to him needing comfort as she sobbed renewed tears into his collar.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "It will never happen again."

"Okay," her voice was small and ragged, but her mind was made up.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sansa awoke alone in her bed the next morning, wondering if last night had been a bad dream. But the anxiety that filled her chest when she reflected on it assured her that it had been real. She quickly showered and brushed her teeth, before pulling on her clothes and padding out of her room.

Sansa could smell lemon cakes as she walked down the back stairs and allowed her nose to lead her into the kitchen. She was surprised to see Petyr occupying one of the island stools as the cook placed a platter with a mouth watering lemon cake down in front of him.

She forced away any lingering anxiety as she looked at the lemon cakes then back at Petyr. “Lemon cakes for breakfast?” she asked in surprise.

“I will gift you a lemon cake as big as this room if it will keep a smile on your pretty little face,” Petyr told her.

She smiled as she walked over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek before she sat on one of the stools. 

The cook cut a huge slice of the lemon cake and placed it in front of her along with a knife and fork.

Sansa couldn’t keep the grin off of her face or the guilt out of her mind. _I’m sorry Petyr. But I have to find Jon._


	7. Sansa

Sansa stepped out the door headed to the library, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. The meal that she had consumed for breakfast, although delicious, was now threatening to come back up.

 _This is it. This is the day,_ she told herself. _I set off to find Jon._ She hadn’t dared try again after her first attempt when she’d nearly been mowed down by a truck. Sandor’s truck. He’d called her out on trying to run away and she had decided to wait before trying again; afraid that if he suspected that she was biding her time, Sandor would jump out of the truck after her, march to her front door and alert everyone to what she was trying to do. 

But now she was ready. She’d thought long and hard about it. Sansa wore her regular book bag slung over her shoulder. It was stuffed with very few clothing and toiletries. She hadn’t even included an extra pair of shoes. She walked the few miles to the library and determinedly marched into the lobby. When the librarians at the front desk greeted her, she attempted to keep the guilty flush off of her face. Forcing her facial muscles to relax and stretch into their usual smile. 

_Would they know something was off?_ she worried as she headed upstairs. _When Petyr came looking would he immediately know what she was doing?_ She sat at her usual spot, trying to stick to her usual routine so that nothing in her behavior would stand out. After spending an appropriate amount of time surfing the web, she headed to the bathroom to place a call to Uber. She requested an uber to drive her to Richards Blvd to catch the Greyhound. 

Once done, she went back to her seat and waited. Reading a few books to keep her mind off of her growing nerves. _No one’s watching you, silly,_ she scolded herself. _Stop acting weird._ But she couldn’t help it. She felt so nervous. She almost expected to turn around and see everyone staring at her suspiciously.

Before she could change her mind and call the whole thing off, Sansa hurried to the restroom and locked the door behind her. She changed into a loose gray hoodie, then placed a cap on her head, tucking it low over her face before pulling up her hood to completely mask her hair. As long as she kept her head lowered, the disguise should work, she convinced herself as she stepped out of the restroom and waited in the hall for the uber.

Her phone vibrated about fifteen minutes later and she jumped, then glanced guiltily around. Her Uber was here. Head down, she hurried down the stairs, through the lobby and out the doors; keeping her face shielded so that the front desk attendants couldn’t glimpse it. The uber was parked right in front of the steps and she gratefully rushed down and walked to the car; throwing the door open and folding her long frame inside. She shut the door firmly and the car drove off.

She dozed off as the car drove smoothly, but before long the uber driver was waking her up and telling her that she had reached her destination. Mouth dry and heart in her throat, Sansa paid him and stepped out on shaky legs. She picked up her book bag and headed to the Greyhound Station ticket booth. 

Twenty minutes later, she was tucked into a seat, her hands folded primly in her lap. It was going to be a long trip and this was only the beginning. The trip to San Francisco would take about two hours, so she pulled out a book that she had packed to pass the time. And once in San Francisco, she would have to switch to the Amtrak to take her cross country.  


200 Folsom St., the bus had arrived about ten minutes ago. Sansa walked across San Francisco busy Greyhound Station, wanting to buy some food and engage in a quick sightseeing expedition before the Amtrak that she had booked arrived. She spotted a store across the street that read “Philz Coffee” and decided to try it out. She ordered hot chocolate and a sandwich, then sat at a table by the window to people watch as she ate.

After she finished eating, Sansa headed to the San Francisco Ferry Building that was about fifteen minutes away. She bought a small carry-on bag and transferred her clothes and other items into it. She also bought an extra pair of shoes and more books to read. She stuffed the new purchases into the carry-on. Once her shopping was complete, she explored for a while before checking the time. 

Her train would arrive soon! Sansa rushed back to the Greyhound Station. The train was pulling in as she arrived and she took a few seconds to catch her breath. With a book in hand, her belly fully, and a window seat, Sansa settled into her seat inside the Amtrak. Now that she had made it this far, her anxiety had dissolved a little. 

She looked at the other passengers as they boarded the train and wondered if she would strike up a friendship with any in the four days that it would take to reach New York.


	8. Sansa

Sansa’s stomach was in painful knots from the amount of guilt and shame that coursed through her in waves. She couldn’t believe that she was putting Petyr through this. He had done nothing but love her, show her kindness, and take care of her when everyone else was gone. 

She had woken up panicked and confused about her surroundings, until she’d remembered what she had done. Fearfully she had checked her phone, just to choke back a sob at the fifty plus missed calls, numerous voice mails, and over fifty panicked and urgent messages from Petyr. 

Tears burned her eyes. What if Petyr was right and Jon just told her to go back home because he wasn’t interested in having her around? Then all of this panic that she was causing him would be for naught. _Maybe I should just go back home,_ she sniffled. 

Petyr would be furious, but she would allow him as many kisses as he wanted if he would forgive her.

He’d only been trying to protect her when he had told her that she couldn’t see Jon. He told her to wait a while so that he could meet Jon first before allowing Sansa to reunite with him. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away before anyone saw.

Now she’d made his worst nightmare come true. She went missing. Even though she was aware of his overcautious nature when it came to her. He would sometimes have her followed from a distance. But Sansa knew that it was only because he was terrified of losing her too. He’d once told her that losing her would kill him. _I would die from heartbreak, sweetling,_ he had told her, right before kissing her gently.

“Are you okay, honey?” A lady in the next aisle was looking at her, concern written on her face.

Sansa drew in a shaky breath, before exhaling and offering the lady a wobbly smile. “I’m just homesick,” she replied.

Her sadness soon melted away as the train rolled along and the scenic views captured her attention. She found herself wishing that she’d brought along a camera as the train ran alongside the bay, so close that it appeared to be gliding on the water. The soothing image of the water lapping so peacefully made her feel as if all of her troubles were floating away. The scenery soon changed to a barren looking forest and Sansa settled back into her seat. _Fitting,_ she thought dryly. 

Her stomach grumbled, so she made her way to the Amtrak cafe and bought a hotdog and root beer, before making her way back to her seat.

The scenery picked up again when they reached the Sierra Nevada and Sansa was shocked at how chilly it became in the train and all of the snow that covered the ground. A mere few hours later, the snow gave way to dry, thirsty lands and a stifling desert. _It’s as if I’m being transported back and forth from one part of the sphere to another,_ she marveled.

When dinner time came around, Sansa went to the dining car with the other passengers. She found an empty table and slid herself over on the bench until she was next to the window. 

A few minutes later, a middle aged couple occupied the opposite bench at her table. “Hello,” the lady smiled at her kindly. “Are you traveling on your own?” 

“I’m going to my father’s. My parents are divorced.” The lie slid off Sansa’s tongue smoothly enough that the couple believed her.

The woman’s eyes softened. “It must be hard. Poor thing.”

Sansa gave her a polite smile, before picking up her menu and studying it. She ended up ordering a slow-cooked beef short-ribs, with smoke-died chipotle pepper and mushroom cream sauce, white rice, carrots and green beans. 

After dinner, she slept curled up in her seat, only to awaken in the wee hours of the morning as the train stopped in Salt Lake City to let off some passengers. As the twinkling lights of the city passed by, before getting left behind by the chugging train, she wistfully thought about all of the people sleeping comfortably in their beds, and wished that she too was tucked up in her own bed.


	9. Sansa

Sansa stepped out of the train, blinking at the bright sunlight and engaging in a luxurious stretch. It felt good to shake off the cramps in her muscles and to move around freely. She was glad that she’d finally reached Denver, where she would spend one day during her stopover. The thought of sitting in the train for one second longer had inspired a burning desire to tear out her hair.

Luggage in hand, she exited Union Station and headed in the direction of the tourist hotspot, wanting to kill some time before checking in at the hotel that she’d booked. As she walked, she heard a horn sound to her left. Turning, her eyes widened as her gaze fell on the truck halted at the red light. For a wild second she imagined it was Sandor, and her heart raced in her chest as she pictured him jumping out of the truck, grabbing her arm and demanding to know where she was going in that rough way of his. 

But an unfamiliar head stuck itself out of the truck window, and the leering on the stranger’s face made her skin crawl as he began whistling at her and shouting crude suggestions. Sansa hastily made her way into the nearest convenience store, walking the perimeter of the store twice before exiting. She was relieved to find that the truck was gone.

Sansa opened her book bag and retrieved the map that she had printed of tourist spots near Union Station, scanning it quickly as her feet headed towards her chosen destination. The pedestrian mall located at 16th Street.

Her face lit up as she caught sight of it. There was a quaint sense about the area. Rows of boutiques caught the eye, advertising the latest fashion. Music played softly in the distance, artists showed off their skills here and there, and gigantic red and blue flowerpots lined the sidewalks, coupled with unique light posts with clear tops that resembled UFOs. 

As she walked, she passed more cafes than she could count. They seemed to simultaneously compete with and complement one another. There were charming benches scattered generously around, providing relief for the weary, and bicycles with mini carriages passed every so often.

To say the least, Sansa was thrilled.

She was glad for the weight of the carry-on in her hand as her senses were overwhelmed by the explosion of colors and shapes. Every item seemed extraordinary and begged for extra attention from her, and Sansa was only too willing to draw closer to the vendor and oooh and ahhh over them.

Hours later, feeling happy but tired, and having succeeded in withstanding the temptation of purchasing copious amount of items that would only weigh down her luggage, Sansa gave a regretful sigh before heading to the movie theaters.

By the time the movie finished, sunset was drawing near and she decided that it was time to check in at the hotel. Sansa dropped into one of the cafes for a meal before finally heading to the hotel. The building featured both hotel and hostel services. Sansa had booked a single room with its own bathroom. She’d chosen this hotel because not only was it cheap, but she knew that she could book a room for the night even though she was underage.

As she stood at the front desk, she strove to ignore the guy that stood near the lobby door, continuously shooting leering glances in her direction. 

"You look too young to be turning tricks. But no worries, let's go to your room. I'll be your first customer," he stated as she wrapped up at the front desk and began heading to her room.

Sansa ignored him, choosing to make her way to her room with her head high, before firmly shutting and locking the door after her. Setting her carry-on next to the bed for easy access, the first thing that she decided on was a shower. She laid out clothes to change into, brushed her teeth, and then turned on the shower before removing her clothes. Sansa stepped into the shower, losing herself in blissful delight as the hot water pulsed against her skin and soothed her aching muscles. After a few minutes of basking under the steaming water, she lathered the soap and scrubbed her body, making sure to also wash her hair before rinsing and drying off. 

Back in the bedroom, she changed into her long white t-shirt and black tights before crawling into bed. Sleep came almost immediately.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sansa stirred in her sleep, wondering what had woken her. Then she heard it again. The unmistakable sound of the doorknob to her room jiggling. She bolted up in panic, her heart racing. The doorknob continued jiggling as she heard something scraping in the lock. “No. No,” she whimpered in dismay. She jumped out of the bed and speedily grabbed all of her belongings, infinitely thankful that she had not unpacked, choosing rather to contain everything in one bag. 

Belongings in hand, Sansa made her way to the window, unlocking it and yanking it open. She hurriedly threw her bag outside and then climbed out after it. She shut the window, picked up her bag and took off running. She ran in the direction of the station, wondering if she would be able to spend the night there. 

_Once I board the train, I won’t make another stopover. I will take it straight to New York if possible,_ she swore to herself.

A growing stitch in her side caused her to take a break in running and walk for a while. As she walked she reflected on the terrifying experience that had occurred. She wondered if it was the creepy guy that was hanging in the hotel lobby earlier. 

_“You look too young to be turning tricks,”_ he had commented, leering at her.

The unsettled feeling that he’d induced hadn’t left her even after she’d ignored him and quickly gone to her room. As she neared the station, Sansa saw several scantily clad women hanging in the corner and smoking. Their eyes were drawn to her as she walked by.

“You’re so pretty,” one of them observed. “A pretty little thing like you would pull in a lot of money in one night.”

“Please leave me alone,” Sansa whispered. She was scared and was once again starting to deeply regret leaving home. She wondered if she should turn her phone back on and pick up one of Petyr’s calls. _Please come get me,_ she would beg him...


	10. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short chapter just to set up event for the next chapter

Sansa abruptly awoke with a crick in her neck. She’d fallen asleep on one of the benches in the station last night for a whole thirty minutes and then had been unable to go back to sleep. Bleary eyed, she’d waited for her Amtrak to arrive, slumping into a seat as soon as she’d entered the train, and immediately falling into an exhausted slumber. Now after hours of uninterrupted sleep, her tiredness was gone, but there was a stiffness in her neck.

She looked around noticing that the train had stopped. They were currently in Chicago. There was an announcement over the speaker informing them of an emergency stop and that the train would resume shortly.

Staring out of the window, she spotted several policemen on the platform and she immediately tensed up. Some passengers were exiting the train and Sansa picked up her luggage and followed after them, sticking close so that she would blend in. Once on the platform, she maintained a safe distance as she observed the officers.

The conductor exited the train and she watched as he engaged in conversation with the policemen. Two of them entered the train while others started walking around the station.

Sansa wondered if she should get closer to hear what was going on. She tried to move but she felt frozen. She tried again, lifting her leaden feet and dragging them closer.

“A girl. Bright auburn hair, tall and slim.”

Her heart pounded as the words floated to her. _I need to go._

Sansa backed away slowly. Grateful that her glaring head of red hair was obscured by her hood. The sight of the police officers caused guilt along with panic to swell up in her and she tried to not think of the stress that she was causing Petyr. Possession in hand, she made a calm escape, while doubt gnawed away at her insides as she worried about what she would do now.


	11. Sandor

Glaring at the offending line that didn’t show any sign of minimizing, Sandor wished that he could just hire someone to do his shopping for him. He didn’t think the outcome would be in his favor if he bulldozed to the front of the line, snapping wrists, breaking ribs, and blackening eyes in the process, so with a dark glower at everyone around him, he stayed put.

Frustrated with the hold up, he turned just as a familiar red escaped out of sight. Sandor blinked, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He quickly headed in that direction, the scathing glare that he shot at people in his path encouraging them to hastily clear the way. 

He searched the aisle. There wasn’t any flaming head of hair. “I know what I saw.” He was beginning to become furious with himself. Why couldn’t he get the defiant spitfire with her flaming hair and crystalline eyes out of his mind?

Just as he was about to head back the way he came, she stepped out from a farther aisle. Sandor instantly recognized her willowy long frame, although her cascade of auburn hair shielded her face.

“YOU!” he roared.

She jumped in surprise, along with numerous others, her eyes widening as she turned and spotted him. A guilty look quickly overtook her face. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, storming over to her.

Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Mind your business.”

She turned and started to walk away, but he grabbed her and whirled her around. “Not so fast,” he warned.

“Let me go before I scream,” she ordered, her eyes furious.

“Go ahead. The police might thank me for catching a runaway. Your rich uncle might even pay me for finding you.”

A guilty flush spread across her cheeks and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s not fair,” she muttered, her lips trembling. “I just want to find my brother.”

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” he heard his voice rasping. She opened her mouth to answer and he held up a hand. “On second thought, save this conversation for the truck.” 

For some reason, with the appearance of the red headed spitfire, his mood had lifted. Although she was currently glaring daggers at him. Suddenly the prospect of waiting on the impossibly long line didn’t infuriate Sandor any longer. 

No less than an hour later, he was back in his truck with the little bird in the passenger seat. “Why is it that even when I go to a different state you still manage to run into me and be a pain in my ass?” Sandor rasped.

The little bird glowered at him, her crystalline eyes sparking angrily. “I didn’t run into you. I was shopping and minding my own business. You basically kidnapped me and now _you’re_ being a pain in _my_ ass.”

Sandor forced back the reply that was on the tip of his tongue, brutally reminding himself that she was only fifteen.

The truck was silent as he focused on his driving and she focused on her brooding.

“I had a big family once,” she suddenly spoke, and he turned to look at her. She was staring downwards, he wasn’t sure at what since her long auburn hair was obscuring her face. “I had three brothers, plus my half brother. One sister.” Her voice was sorrowful. “And my parents.” 

Sandor didn’t know what to say as he listened to her. Her sorrow seemed to weigh down the air in the truck. Making it difficult to breathe.

“They’re all dead now. They died when I was eleven. A car accident. We were all flown to different hospitals. Uncle Petyr visited me in the hospital. He told me everyone else was dead and then he took me in to live with him and my aunt Lysa and her son Robin. 

“One night when I was thirteen, Uncle Petyr and I went to the movies... there was a fire while we were away and my aunt and little cousin died. He’s been raising me ever since. I thought he was all I had left but then I found out about Jon.” 

Her voice broke around the name, before she took a deep breath and continued. “I asked Uncle Petyr if Jon’s alive if that means that somehow more of my family made it and are out there. But he said no, they’re all dead.” 

She turned to him, her eyes fierce and determined. “I _have_ to find my brother and I won’t let anyone stop me.”

Sandor chose to focus on his driving rather than reply, and her anger soon abated.

“Why are you here anyway? In Chicago?” Her voice contained a healthy dose of suspicion. As if she thought that perhaps he’d been stalking her across the country.

Sandor snorted. “I was visiting someone,” he provided. 

“Who?” she immediately asked.

“Family.” Sandor didn’t bother to elaborate, but the little bird chose his answer as an opening to release her flood of questions.

“Does your family live here? In Chicago? Do you visit them often?” She was alight with curiosity.

“My sister lives here. She recently became sick so I’m visiting her.”

“What about your parents?”

“Dead.”

She paused as if caught off guard, but a moment later she resumed her probe into his life. “Do you have any siblings other than your sister?”

“I have a brother.” His tone had grown dark but the little bird didn’t take the hint. 

“And?” she probed. 

“Jail,” he growled at her.

“Oh.” Her voice sounded deflated and an awkward silence filled the truck.

Sandor felt savage satisfaction curve his lips upward.


	12. Sandor

“I’ll take a shower first!” Her voice traveled through the door.

Sandor placed his pillow over his head and attempted to catch some extra sleep as he heard the shower sound a short while later. He had booked a two bedroom suite for him and the little bird to sleep in for the night before resuming the journey to her brother’s.

It would have been simpler to buy her another ticket for the train and see her safely back on the Amtrak, but the thought of her traveling cross country on her own rubbed him the wrong way. Sure, kids traveled on their own all the time, but they weren’t _her_.

He dozed off again, startling awake when he heard a knock on the bedroom door.

“Go and shower!” she ordered him. 

Sandor glanced at the time, surprised that twenty minutes had already flown by. He grabbed a towel, a change of clothes, plus a few others items, before heading to the bathroom.

“We’re leaving as soon as I’m done!” he alerted her. “Make sure that your luggage is waiting by the door. We will stop for breakfast on the way.”

He hopped into the shower, quickly scrubbing and rinsing himself, aiming to get back on the road as soon as possible. His limits were being tested sharing a hotel suite with the little bird even though they had their own bedrooms. 

His shower complete, Sandor dried himself and hurriedly dressed before stepping out of the bathroom. “Sansa?” He called, “let’s go!” He waited for a reply and when he received none, he stalked through the suite, his mood growing darker as empty rooms greeted him. Her luggage was by the front door so he knew she hadn’t gone off on her own to try to find her brother.

Sandor exited the suite, still allowing her the benefit of the doubt as he went down to the front desk and inquired if they had seen a young girl with auburn hair leave the premises. To his fury, they confirmed that indeed they had.

Sandor stormed back up to the suite, his blood boiling. He grabbed up her luggage and his own before slamming out the suite and locking the door. He then returned to the front desk to check out before making his way to his truck. He threw the luggage into the vehicle before entering. The empty seat on the passenger side glared up at him as he yanked on his seat belt and cursed the little bird to hell, wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to just leave the girl to her fate and drive off.

Still in a foul mood, he roamed around in his truck, his eyes honing in on the pedestrians walking about, trying to see if he would catch a glimpse of the little bird’s captivating red hair.

The longer he drove around without spotting her, the darker his mood grew. He temporarily went back to the hotel to check if she’d returned but the front desk told him that there hadn’t been any sight of her since she’d left. Furious, Sandor stormed back to his truck, slamming down on the gas, the roar in his ears competing with the throbbing that had kicked off in his head.

“I will wring her pretty little neck,” he swore, then swore again when he heard a siren pick up behind him. He stopped the truck, the pain in his head magnifying as two officers stepped out of their car and headed towards his vehicle.

“Mind stepping out of your truck?” One of the agents ordered.

“Can I know why?” Sandor returned. 

“We’re looking for a missing kid that you have been previously associated with. This license plate was provided to us. If the girl is not with you, then you’re free to go.”

“She’s not,” Sandor replied, thanking the heavens for that small miracle.

“It shouldn’t be a problem if we search your truck then,” one of the officers stated.

Sandor was fuming as he stepped out and allowed the officers to search his truck. The irony made him want to laugh and he would have if he wasn’t wary of further raising the agents’ suspicions. The little bird’s stubbornness had saved his ass. Maybe now he wouldn’t be so inclined to wring her pretty little neck when he found her.

The first thing that Sandor did once the two police officers drove off was to find a parking garage to store his truck for a few weeks. Once he dropped the little bird at her brother’s place, he would return for his truck. Next he found a place where he could borrow a new truck with minimum information.

When he finally spotted the little bird as he headed back to the hotel, he pressed down on the horn so angrily that several people jumped, before glaring incensed in his direction. A few flipped him off.

Sandor barely held back his rage as he watched her climb cautiously into the rented vehicle.

“What happened to your truck?” she asked, before noting his expression and shutting her mouth.

“You’re just a stupid little bird aren’t you?!” his anger exploded out of him. “Thinking that it’s okay to flutter off when someone is trying to keep you safe!” She didn’t reply and her silence infuriated him more. “I have a good mind to drop you off at the nearest police station. You’re proving to be more trouble than you’re worth!”

She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. 

“Your rich uncle is having my license plate tracked. I even had to ditch my truck because of you! So the least that you can do is stop arguing with me every few seconds and STOP RUNNING OFF!”

The sound of her whimper almost made him feel guilty. Almost.


	13. Sansa

“We could stop here for a bite.” He drove into the parking lot of the iHop and parked the truck.

Sansa remained scrunched down in her seat, wanting to disappear. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision. _I’m sorry,_ she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to do, so she did the only thing that she knew how. It always made Petyr happy and even Sandor had kissed her before. 

She moved onto his lap and hesitantly touched her lips against his. He froze with shock for a good moment before crushing her against him, taking over as he devoured her lips. Sansa tried to keep her body from stiffening up as the overstimulating sensation made her feel as if she was drowning. 

He flattened her against him, deepening the kiss and stroking his tongue into her mouth. When he finally released her, she scrambled back into her seat, avoiding looking at him as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Gosh, little bird,” Sandor rasped. “Don’t initiate it if you can’t handle it.” 

“I just wanted to show you that I was sorry,” Sansa said, her voice small.

He glared at her. “A simple ‘I’m sorry’ would have sufficed.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You’re hungry,” Sandor replied. “Let’s go eat.” 

Sansa quickly jumped out of the vehicle, grateful for the change of subject and grateful to be out of the enclosed space of the truck. They walked into the iHop as her stomach let out a protesting growl. She blushed and then sniffed the air as the delicious aroma of hot pancakes wafted towards her and filled her nostrils, causing her mouth to water.

They ate their pancakes in silence, Sansa sipping her orange juice before going back to her pancakes, effectively ignoring Sandor’s presence. She had pushed the kiss out of her mind and was focusing all of her thoughts on reuniting with her brother. Just one more day. They had about twelve more hours of driving and Sandor planned to drive for six hours today and six hours tomorrow. Sansa was excited and nervous and secretly grateful for Sandor’s presence even though she would never say so out loud.

She took another sip of orange juice as she glanced out of the iHop window. The sun hit her face but she barely seemed to notice, so lost was she in her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter so I'm going to immediately post another one.


	14. Sandor

She looked magnificent. 

The sun had caught her were she sat, setting her aglow. From her pale eyes that had turned luminescent, a surreal light illuminating from their depths, the pale colors vivid and entrancing; to her hair that was transformed into a brilliant curtain of flame, seeming to burn as hotly as the sun, in his mind as fiery as her spirit. 

He wanted to kiss her from head to toe and then repeat the process.

 _She’s a child!_ his conscious snarled at him. _She’s closer to a woman than a child,_ a darker part of him pointed out. But even as he agreed he doubted it. 

The girl looked way too young, beautiful as she was. She was tall but her face was that of a child. Her teats were small against her shirt, her body still skinny although her curves were starting to develop. 

Sandor let out a frustrated growl, causing the subject of his inappropriate longing to glance at him in surprise; but he just glared until she went back to eating her breakfast.

“I found my brother’s address.” She was looking at him again, oblivious to his unseemly thoughts. “I _know_ where he lives now. His address was inked out on the paper that Uncle Petyr had but his P.O. Box was included. That’s how I sent the letter. But now I _know_ where he lives. Now I can actually _go_ to him.” She wasn’t sullen anymore. Her face and eyes were lit up and her voice was bubbling with excitement.

As he took in the radiant sight of her happiness, Sandor couldn’t help allowing the corner of his mouth to lift slightly in what to him passed as a smile.

She beamed when she noticed his smile, before finishing her orange juice and standing up. “Let’s hit the road.”

The drive was more peaceful now that they were back on speaking terms. And his driving companion was chatting a mile a minute. “What do you do for a living anyway?” she piped up. She was becoming more talkative as they neared her brother’s place. 

“I make things,” Sandor grunted. “Customers place in orders, I make them, then I mass deliver them.” 

“That’s why it took you so _long_ to finish running errands after taking me to the post office.” She rolled her eyes and huffed in a long suffering way.

She was such a little brat Sandor thought, even as another faint smile threatened to lift the corner of his lips.


	15. Sansa

They were now in New York City, about to pull up at Jon’s apartment any second and Sansa’s heart was pounding so fiercely it caused her physical pain. She abruptly turned to Sandor when he stopped the truck in front of the building. “Come with me!” she begged. He started to protest and she grabbed his hand. “Please, Sandor! Please!”

She was trembling so severely that he took pity on her. “Fine,” he rasped.

Sansa opened the passenger side door and jumped out. Her legs immediately gave way and she nearly collapsed to the ground, but grabbed the door handle in time. “I feel sick,” she moaned.

“It’s normal. Just don’t vomit on the truck,” Sandor ordered, appearing on her side of the truck, her luggage in his hand.

She glared at him before shutting her eyes for a few seconds, willing her queasy stomach to settle down. After sucking in a few deep breaths and drinking some of her bottled water, she felt a little better. “Okay, let’s do this.” Clutching Sandor’s arm for moral support, Sansa headed towards the condo building that Jon lived in. 

By the time they made it past the doorman, to the front desk attendant, Sansa’s clutch on Sandor’s arm had evolved into a death grip.

“I’m here to see Jon Snow.” Her voice sounded unnatural and strained, causing the attendant to look at her strangely, before telling her to hold as he picked up the phone to ring Jon’s apartment. She used the opportunity to gulp in air, trying to desperately fight the faintness that threatened to claim her.

The attendant at the desk returned his attention to her. “May I have your name?” he asked in a polite but detached manner.

“I’m — I’m his sister. My name is Sansa.” Her voice had begun to tremble and Sandor awkwardly rubbed her shoulder with his free hand. “It’s fine, little bird.”

His rough, awkward voice soothed her and she took another deep breath. 

The attendant paused as he stared at her, before speaking excitedly into the phone. “Go right up,” he permitted a few seconds later, and supplied the apartment number.

Sansa’s grip on Sandor’s arm tightened as they headed towards the elevator. “If you squeeze my arm any tighter, I just might need to have it amputated.” His voice was dry but Sansa barely seemed to register that he had spoken.

“I’m not going to intrude on your time with your brother. Once he opens the door, I’m leaving,” Sandor informed her. But she was still too engulfed in her silent panic to reply.

After a dry heave scare on the elevator, Sansa stepped out on the fifteenth floor and made her way to the apartment door. “Little bird — ” Sandor started, but the door flew open and they both froze, before Sansa’s eyes widened in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Manchester bombing had my mind too frazzled to write. And then the new Game of Thrones trailer for season 7 was released and of course … I WAS EXCITED. So I wrote. Lol


	16. Sansa

“Uncle _Benjen_?” she could hardly believe it. She stared at the sharp-featured face of the uncle that she had not laid eyes on since she was nine. After the accident, nobody had been able to reach him. And when a year had passed without any successful contact from him, Uncle Petyr had given up and Sansa had convinced herself that her father’s younger brother was dead, along with every other member of her immediate family. 

But here he was alive and well. His blue-grey eyes that always used to carry a hint of laughter were now studying her intently, and suddenly Sansa was overwhelmed. Her legs gave out without warning and she plummeted towards the floor.

Strong arms caught her from behind at the same time Uncle Benjen grabbed her in alarm.

She was barely aware as she was carried into the apartment and laid down on an oversized, plush sofa. A gentle large hand stroked her hair out of her face as two pair of worried faces glanced down at her in concern.

A short moment later, a cold washcloth was pressed against her forehead and the coolness sent a bolt to her mind, jarring her back to alertness.

“Uncle Benjen?” she whispered, staring at the familiar face, her voice full of disbelief and wonder. 

“It’s me, Sansa,” his hoarse voice echoed her own disbelief and wonder. “Jon showed me the letter that you sent him. We both couldn’t believe it... It was as if a ghost had risen from the past...” Speaking seemed too much as he bent to wrap his arms around his niece, and straightened with her embraced in a bear hug that lifted her feet clear off the floor. “Gosh, Sansa,” he murmured, still holding her tightly. “All these years I thought you were dead.”

“I thought everyone was dead too,” she revealed, sobs choking her words. “I didn’t know Jon was alive until a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t even know _you_ were alive until you opened the door.” Sansa wrapped her arms around her uncle’s neck at a loss for words.

The uncle and niece held each other, emotions overflowing, as Sandor stood a few feet away in awkward discomfort. 

When Sansa was finally set back down on her feet, she looked around eagerly. “Where’s Jon?” 

“In school,” Uncle Benjen replied, smiling.

“School?” Sansa repeated in disbelief, then she wanted to smack herself. Jon was only three years older than her. He would be eighteen now. Just starting university.

“He attends NYU,” her uncle informed her. “He would have gone to Harvard, but he wanted to stay close to home.” There was pride in his voice. “He’ll be back soon.”

“I can’t wait,” Sansa replied. She could barely take her eyes off of her uncle, her own living flesh and blood. She’d had Uncle Petyr, but they weren’t related by blood. Although she firmly believed that family went beyond blood.

She looked at him, dying to ask the question that burned her tongue. But every time it rose to the surface, she swallowed it back down, unwilling to ruin the happy mood. Finally, curiosity tearing her apart, she asked, “Uncle Benjen…after the accident...why didn’t you come for me? Why didn’t you visit?” 

Her voice was full of vulnerability that she was unable to hide. Didn’t _want_ to hide. She wanted him to know how much it hurt feeling like he didn’t care.

Her uncle’s head hung down. She could see that this was a topic that pained him and that made her feel a little bit better. “I didn’t know.” His blue-grey eyes had lifted to stare into her own crystalline eyes. So different yet both held the same pain. 

“I didn’t know, love. If I had known what happened to you guys, I would have traveled day and night to reach you all. But Sansa, at that time I was obsessed with traveling the world, living on the edge, trying to survive in remote places. I was unreachable for a couple of years. By the time I returned to civilization, it was only to receive the news that my brother, his wife, and children had all passed away in a car accident.” 

His eyes closed as he attempted to get his emotions back in check, but when he opened them again, Sansa was shocked by the pain reflected in them. “I was devastated, but I didn’t think there was anything I could do. I wasted a lot of months drinking the pain away and being a self destructive idiot.

“It was only last year that I got myself together and became involved with the family business. And this year that I reunited with Jon.”

His eyes gleamed with pride at the mention of Jon and Sansa leaned forward eagerly. “Tell me about Jon,” she begged. “How is he like now? Would he like me? We never used to get along before. Me and Arya used to fight so dreadfully, but Jon and I hardly interacted at all. I think he viewed me as snooty and I thought him weird.” Sansa stared at her uncle awaiting his response. 

“Jon loves you, love. Always and forever. He broke down when he found out you were alive. He did the same when he found out I was alive too. Actually we both let loose some manly tears.” Uncle Benjen’s blue-grey eyes looked at her with so much love and happiness that she couldn’t help giving him an impulsive hug.

“Jon was living in London ever since the accident. He was adopted and raised by a couple there. He arrived to the office one day, maybe he was interested in seeing the place where Ned used to run the business, but when he walked in, he spotted me. It was as if he’d seen a ghost. He nearly fainted! Kind of like you.” Uncle Benjen chuckled and Sansa laughed too, happy beyond belief.

“Anyway. He had been accepted to the top American colleges and universities and had decided upon moving to the states while attending school. He was considering enrolling in Harvard, but immediately chose to attend a college in NYC so that we wouldn’t be separated again. I bought an apartment near his school and here we are. The deed is in his name so if I ever have the itch to travel the world again and live remotely, he would already be set up with his own place.”

Uncle Benjen finally turned to Sandor and then back to Sansa. His gaze intent. “Are you going to introduce me? Or will I be forever left to wonder why my fifteen year old niece is traveling around on her own with a grown man?”

Sansa’s heated blush quickly led way to a hasty explanation as Uncle Benjen’s eyes’ narrowed. She shot a glare at Sandor who seemed content to lounge back on the couch without offering an answer to her uncle’s questions.

She provided a brief background on Sandor and her meeting when he nearly mowed her over with his truck _twice_ , then hastily skipped over to when she ran away (blushing as she retold this part) then skipped over to a brief retelling of running into Sandor in Chicago and quickly skipped to him driving her to Jon’s because he felt responsible for her since she was determined to get here and he didn’t want to leave her on her own.

Uncle Benjen relaxed when she finished her greatly edited recounting, although he still wasn’t happy with the thought of her having spent a few days traveling alone with a grown man.

Sansa heard the door open from somewhere down the gallery and turned to her uncle as her nerves kicked into full gear once again. He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat before yelling, “Jon! Get in here!”

An achingly familiar figure appeared in the great room, a confused expression on his face. And Sansa stared at him, unable to move or speak.

Sansa recalled a particular photo of her father that she used to stare at whenever she visited her father’s office room. It was her mother’s favorite picture of him. In it, her sharply dressed father, barely eighteen, stood proud and confident in front of the exclusive and posh private school that he had attended, an air of privilege and wealth surrounded him, almost palpable through the frame. Sansa would always stare entranced and awe filled at the weirdness of seeing an eighteen year old version of her father. Skinny and youthful, his long solemn face aware of his affluent status, although free of arrogance. His grey eyes serious as if already weighing the expectations required of him.

As she looked at Jon, it was as if Father had stepped out of the picture frame of that old photograph to stand in front of her. Jon’s head turned slowly, his gaze falling on her, and as she stared into his proud but warm grey eyes, which currently appeared so dark they could be mistaken for black, she felt like she was eleven years old again, staring into her father’s eyes. It was almost as if she had a segment of her home back. Her treasured childhood with her parents and her siblings.

Unable to contain her sudden flood of emotion, Sansa sprung up from the couch, sprinting across the room and flinging herself into her brother’s arms as sobs erupted from her chest and ripped brutally out of her throat.

His shock caused him to stagger back slightly and she looked up at him, beaming through her tears as she took in his grey eyes that were full of disbelief and other powerful emotions. “Oh Jon,” she sighed, hugging him again. In her arms she held precious memories. Happiness and hope. A piece of the family that she had lost and someone to remember the best parts of that family with.

Jon’s shock seemed to wear off and suddenly his arms were wrapped around her tightly, holding her like there wasn’t any possibility of him ever letting go. And as they hugged each other as if their lives depended on it, Sansa knew in her heart that running away from home had been worth it, because it had led to this moment.


	17. Sandor

It seemed that from her uncle in California to her brother and uncle in New York, the little bird came from a loaded family. She had hardly blinked an eye as they stepped into the luxury building that her brother resided in. Even the lobby of the building screamed _wealth_. Now Sandor reclined on a couch in a condo situated high above Manhattan. Rather than walls, it featured floor to ceilings windows that provided unparalleled city and skyline views. Although the view was stunning, his attention was drawn back to the girl with the auburn hair standing a few feet away.

The little bird was in good hands he could tell, but a part of him was reluctant to leave her. The way that she’d longed so desperately for her brother since the first day he met her, he would have imagined that her brother would be a grown man, capable of protecting her, and worthy of her admiration. But her dark haired brother was little more than a boy himself. Youthful, privileged, and distrustful as he stared at Sandor with a glare.

“If you’re hanging with my sister to get money, you’re wasting your time. None of our trust funds are accessible until we reach the age of twenty-one.” 

The boy scowled darkly at him and Sandor stared back in relaxed amusement. 

The little bird jumped in, trying to ease the awkward tension. “Jon, don’t worry. Sandor’s my friend. He was only helping me and looking after me so I reached here safely.”

Her brother’s gaze immediately went to her and stuck. The novelty of having his sister back seemed to wash over him anew and he held out his arms to her. The little bird immediately stepped into her brother’s embrace, snuggling against him.

Sandor felt a burning jealousy spread through him unbidden. How easily she melted into her brother’s arms even though they'd only just reunited after being separated for years. The only time the little bird had willingly touched him was when they arrived to her brother’s building. And the kiss. 

He remembered the way she had sat herself on his lap and hesitantly pressed her lips to his. Her kiss had been so innocent and inexperienced, yet her action seemed like something she’d done often. 

“This apartment has its own personal terrace, would you like to go outside?” The question cut through his thoughts and he looked up.

“I would love to,” Sandor answered, even though the question had not been directed at him.

Her uncle who seemed less of an uptight ass than her brother, chuckled, before leading the way out to the terrace. 

The full breathtaking beauty of New York City from high up in the air left him at a loss for words. From up here, the breeze caressed his face, the noise of the bustling city was distant but still present. Tall skyscrapers rose up all around him, their lights bright and inspiring, and the sky now painted a vivid pink seemed close enough to touch. The whole experience seemed surreal. 

The little bird made her way over to him, sitting down and scooting close as she whispered, “I’m glad that you’re here.”

A powerful urge rose up in him to kiss her. But Sandor had a feeling that indulging this urge might result in him leaving the terrace in a manner that would result in immediate death. He settled for memorizing her flushed happy face and sparkling eyes.

“Are you going to stay in New York for a while?” Her pale eyes seemed to glow against the darkening sky.

“I need to get back to my workshop and see to orders that my customers have placed.”

“Just for a few days,” she begged. 

He smirked. “You barely could stand my presence the whole time that we were traveling here. Now you don’t want me to leave.”

She blushed and rolled her eyes, choosing to study the scenic city skyline rather than reply to him.

He wanted to run two finger down her soft cheek, but her brother was still scowling, and her uncle shot discreet looks over at them every few minutes. Sandor couldn’t really say that he blamed them. She was a treasure to be guarded.

“Little bird, I have to go,” he informed her a short while later. He rose to his feet and she shot to hers, looking alarmed.

“You’re not leaving New York, are you? You said you’ll stay for a few days. Just until I go back to Uncle Petyr’s.” A pout formed on her lips.

Sandor dragged his gaze back to her eyes and gave her a pat on the head. “We’ll see,” he told her. 

“Let me walk you back to the truck,” she suggested, walking alongside him. 

He found her reluctance to part ways adorable. If he was the type to delude himself, he would have smugly believed that it was because she wanted him the same way that he wanted her. But deep down he suspected the little bird had abandonment issues. It was expected after nearly losing her entire family.

Her brother trailed behind them as they entered the elevator and went down to the lobby.

“I’ll call you!” the little bird promised.

And the last sight that Sandor caught before stepping out of the building’s front doors, was her brother’s thunderous expression as he glared after him.

 _Stay away from my sister._ It was a look that he knew well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so distracted the last couple of days, but I will try really hard to write the next chapter today.


	18. Sansa

The next morning was one of the sweetest that Sansa recalled in a long time. She awoke with the sky scrapers standing tall and proud outside of the glass walls of her room, and the sun peeking brightly through the gaps that they offered. There was joy in her heart that was matched only by the huge grin that wouldn’t leave her face.

After a shower, she dressed in one of the outfits that were folded in her luggage, before leaving her room. The great room was at the other end of the sprawling gallery and even from her spot in front of the room door, she could gaze at the beautiful view of New York City’s skyline and skyscrapers.

She walked straight down the gallery before turning right into the kitchen which was next to the great room. Uncle Benjen and Jon were already seated and their eyes lit up when they saw her. Sansa had never felt so special as she beamed broadly and took a seat at the island stool. The aroma of fried eggs, french toast, bacon, and pancakes graced the air, and after a long and heartfelt hug from her uncle and brother, her uncle spoke.

“We weren’t sure what you would prefer for breakfast so Anna cooked a variety,” Uncle Benjen informed her, nodding his head towards a plump and petite lady that had turned towards Sansa holding a plate stacked with pancakes, and another stacked with fried eggs and bacon. There was already a plate of french toast on the island bar along with an assortment of fruits, and a large jar of orange juice.

“What would you like, dear heart?” Anna asked her. Her eyes were filled with kindness and open curiosity. 

“Pancakes, please,” Sansa answered.

The cook smiled as she placed the plates on the bar. “Pancakes for the little beauty,” she announced with a wink. As Sansa ate, Anna studied her with interest. “Your uncle and brother have been talking about you all morning. ‘Most beautiful girl in the world, our Sansa’ they told me. I could see that they were right. The happiest I’ve seen them in a long time. ‘I’ll bring my sister home’ Jon has been telling me ever since he received your letter. ‘I’ll bring my sister home, you just watch.’ And here you are!” Anna was beaming happily, her eyes looking suspiciously misty.

Sansa felt touched by the cook’s kindness, but also unsure of how to react. Uncle’s Petyr’s cook had never spoken to her much. She had been kind but never nosy. Uncle Petyr liked for his staff to know their place. There was obviously a different protocol here. She smiled. Father had been kind to the house staff too.

“When you’re done eating, would you fancy looking at some photos?” Jon asked, and Sansa was once again caught off guard by his accent.

Uncle Benjen had mentioned that Jon had been living in London for a while, but the fact hadn’t really registered with Sansa until she heard Jon’s accent, so different from what he sounded like when she last heard him speak. Now she listened in fascination as he spoke, tucked up together on the couch as they look at old photos after breakfast. Beneath the accent and the changes induced by puberty, she could hear a lingering trace of the boy she once knew. She giggled as she looked at a particular funny photo of her and her siblings dressed up in costumes as they put on a play.

“I reckon we were some cute cherubs,” Jon said, grinning.

Sansa grinned back and told him that she envied his accent, and giggled again when he rolled his eyes.

Uncle Benjen joined them a short while later and the three of them sat chatting, laughing, and smiling warmly at photos that brought up fond memories. 

“Look at Arya!” Sansa squealed, pointing at a photo of her little sister. In it, the dark haired little girl with the impish smile sported a fake mustache, fake painted on muscles, and a dramatic unibrow with a bandana tied over her head. Her sister looked ridiculous, but Sansa’s heart swelled with love all the same. To see their faces again was so bittersweet...

Jon’s arm wrapped around her as if he was attuned to the direction her thoughts were heading.

She turned to give him a grateful smile, and in her moment of vulnerability, the shock of how much he resembled their father hit her anew. Her breath hitched painfully as tears leaked down her face and she burrowed into him for comfort. With his dark hair and grey eyes, if Sansa closed her eyes long enough, she could almost convince herself that it was Father's arms wrapped protectively around her.

Once her tears were spent, the three of them devoted time to binge watching comedy movies. The constant laughter and silly plots helped lift her mood considerably. And after a full day spent with the ones she loved most, she realized guiltily that Uncle Petyr was all alone back at home. And most likely still worried sick.


	19. Sansa

Sansa stared down at her phone that was still powered off, wondering if she should take it with her. “No point in bringing it if it will remain shut off the whole time,” she finally decided. She placed her phone on the bed stand table before brushing her hair. 

The sun was beaming brightly, reflecting off the glass panels of the skyscrapers that soared beyond the glass-walls of her room, and Sansa picked up her visor, fitting it snugly over her head. She hooked her sunglasses into the top of her shirt before shooting one more guilty glance at her silent phone. _I will call Petyr,_ she promised silently, and left the room.

The doorman and the front desk attendant greeted them with cheerful politeness, but curiosity was alight in their eyes as their gaze fell upon Sansa.

She offered them a polite smile before heading out to the waiting cab. “Will we go to Times Square?” Sansa inquired once they were all inside the vehicle.

“Times Square?” Jon looked affronted. “Real New Yorkers avoid Times Square. Too many tourists.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes at his statement. “Fine. Where do _real_ New Yorkers go?” she humored. 

Jon leaned close as if to pass on an important secret. “Pizza. Pizza. Pizza,” he informed her seriously, but his grey eyes were dancing suspiciously.

Sansa felt the edge of her lips tremble in response. She turned away before a smile could betray her and asked her uncle. 

“We’re going to take you through the The High Line trail. You will love it,” Uncle Benjen promised.

“I’m not much of a hiker,” Sansa warned, doubt written across her face. 

The High Line trail was elevated above the city, allowing them some reprieve from the noisy vehicles below as they traveled the paved trail with greenery blooming along the side. The trail snaked between the condos and glass towers, sometimes offering unobstructed views of the brilliant blue of the sky as the highrises occasionally gave way to smaller buildings. 

They spotted the Empire State Building towering over its neighbors at one point, and then after further walking, the statue of liberty stood proud beyond the sparkling waters that the elevated trail passed at another point. The trail felt like a map, leading them over the city and allowing them to gaze down upon it, taking in many sights at once, while also being among the city as they explored it from a unique distance and walked alongside the tall scrapers.

Sansa’s face flamed as they came upon an ominous sign that read, ‘Beyond This Point You May Encounter Nude Sunbathers.' Unsure of whether to believe the sign or not, she quickly decided that it would be beyond embarrassing to be walking with her family if the sign proved to be true. “Meet you guys on the other end,” she told them, before taking off running. She could hear their startled laughter trailing behind her.

She continued running until she had traveled a safe distance from the sunbathing area, before finally stopping to catch her breath. There were benches and stone steps here and there, and Sansa settled into one as she waited for her uncle and brother to catch up.  


“No worries of you getting lost,” Uncle Benjen acknowledged cheerfully when they finally did. “Your hair is a flaming signpost. It leads everyone right to you.” 

Sansa huffed as she stood up. Even when she was little, playing in the sun with her siblings and friends, her hair ruined hide and seek for her. Everyone always spotted it shinning vividly as the sunlight brought it to life. Her brothers had auburn hair too, but theirs were darker and could easily be covered with minimum effort. Mother didn’t play hide and seek, so her hair wasn’t a bother…

They reached the end of the trail soon and Sansa realized how hungry that she was as they walked to a nearby pizza shop. With a great appetite, she ordered two slices with different toppings. Extra cheese with spinach and chicken chunks for one, and pepperoni for the other. The pizza was heavenly and as she bit into it, sauce oozed out, staining her mouth and dripping onto her chin. She chewed slowly, savoring the mixture of cheese, tomato, blended spices, and pepperoni.

“Can we do something that doesn’t require hours of walking next?” Sansa questioned between bites.

“Okay, sauce face,” Uncle Benjen agreed.

Sansa stuck out her tongue at him before wiping the sauce from the edge of her mouth and chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another happy chapter ^_^


	20. Sansa

After a full day of adventure and exploring the city with her brother and uncle, Sansa had soaked in the tub when they returned to the condo, before retiring to her bed. Two hours had passed since Uncle Benjen had come to wish her goodnight before slipping out of the apartment. When Jon came to check on her she asked where Uncle Benjen was going when it was so late.

“Just out and about,” Jon had replied shrugging. “He’ll be back soon.”

Sansa gave him a hug before he returned to his room that was close to hers, only separated by the bathroom that they shared. But that had been around ten p.m. and it was now after midnight. She hadn’t been able to sleep since with numerous thoughts whirling through her mind. Finally unable to stand being cowardly any longer, she turned her phone back on. 

The loads and loads of missed alerts had her flipping the phone face down as she chewed her bottom lip. Should she call Petyr or should she just wait for him to call? After a few minutes of debating, she decided to wait for him to call. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long. The abruptness of her ringtone sounding a short while later nearly had her falling off the bed, before she lunged forward to snatch up her phone.

Sansa’s body flushed with guilt as she stared down at the ringing device. How awful she had been to not call Petyr and let him know that she was safely at Jon’s. She knew the real reason was because she was ashamed of running away and couldn’t bear to face his disappointment and hurt. She answered the phone with a timid, “hello.”

Petyr’s relief was almost palpable. “My sweetling,” he said. “You’ve caused me such a fright, but of course I knew where you were headed.”

“Petyr, I’m so sorry,” Sansa told him, her voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have been deceitful...I just wanted — ” 

“It’s okay, sweetling,” his voice was soothing, causing hot tears to burn her eyes. “Come outside and see me. I’ve missed you so much.” 

“You’re _here_?” Sansa gaped as his words registered. “In front of Jon’s _building_?”

“You’re glad for me to be here, aren’t you?” Petyr’s voice held a reserved note.

Sansa instantly rushed to soothe him. “Of course, Petyr. That’s _wonderful_. Now you can reacquaint yourself with Jon! And my Uncle Benjen, he’s alive too! Oh Petyr I couldn’t tell you how happy I am!”

“Sansa.” Petyr’s quiet, serious tone had her holding back the rest of her words. “Come outside. I want to reacquaint myself with _you_ first, my darling girl.”

Sansa chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Petyr, it’s so late. If I try to sneak out, the doorman and the front desk clerks would immediately alert Jon.”

“Use the building’s backdoor. It only opens up from the inside so you will not have any problem leaving. You will just have to reenter through the front entrance.” 

She could hear the smirk in Petyr’s voice and didn’t bother to ask why he was so familiar with the layout of the building. She huffed as she stood up. “Okay, I’m coming,” she told him.

“My car’s waiting near the back door,” he informed her before hanging up.

Slipping on her sneakers, Sansa clutched her phone in one hand; the city lights streaming into her room and providing her dim lighting as she walked to the door and slowly pulled it open. She crept out and silently shut the bedroom door behind her, before tiptoeing to the front door as stealthily as possible. Once she made it out safely to the hallway with the apartment door locked behind her, Sansa released a sigh of relief.

It took her a full eighteen minutes to find the back door and make it outside. There was a car parked alongside the curb opposite the door and she rushed to it. The door was unlocked so she threw it open, scrambling into the car and throwing her arms around the familiar figure inside. “Uncle Petyr!” her voice was filled with joy.

“My sweetling.” He caught her in a tight embrace, his lips claiming hers as he did so. The kiss lasted for a long time and when he finally released her, Sansa’s whole face was flushed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” Petyr told her as they settled into their seats.

“Where are we going?” she asked surprised, as the car started to move.

“The car can’t stay parked here too long. It would look suspicious. And I want time to catch up with you without interruption.”

The way that he looked at her let her know that he wanted some more kisses too, and the flush in her face intensified. Sansa watched the people walking about as the car drove by. It was nearly one a.m. _Confirmed,_ she thought. _New York is indeed the city that never sleeps._ Back at home, not a soul would be out at this hour. _But here I am,_ she acknowledged wryly.

The peaceful silence allowed her to curl up undisturbed, as the smooth motion of the car lulled her to sleep. She slept for a while, forgetting that she was not in her bed, until the sound of light thudding had her jerking awake. The source turned out to be heavy rain hitting the roof of the car.

“It’s raining!” Sansa squeaked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as the car was pelted. “Are we going to have to get out off the car? I don’t have an umbrella!”

“Yes!” Petyr’s voice was full of amusement.

Sansa could tell that he was laughing at her and she glowered at him. “I’m going to be drenched.” 

“I will warm you up,” he teased.

It was hard to see out of the window with the rain distorting the view, but she realized the absence of the bright lights of New York City, the buildings, and the busy streets.

“Petyr, where are we?” she asked worriedly, turning to him.

“Don’t worry, sweetling. I’m taking you to where I’m staying. I told you that I want to talk to you and spend time with you in private.” His reply was calm as his focus remained on the road. 

“But we’re on the highway. And this doesn’t look like New York City.”

“My hotel is about two hours away,” he told her. “I know it’s far but I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”

“But Petyr...what if Jon realizes I’m not there and calls the _police_?”

Petyr glanced at her as the car slowed. “Were you so concerned when you left _me_?”

Sansa looked down at her lap, shamefaced. “I was going to come back at the end of the week,” she mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Petyr answered, his voice soothing again. “You’re safe with me and that’s all that matters.”

She didn’t say anything else as Petyr continued to drive, and soon sleep was pulling her under again. 

Her phone rang in her lap and Sansa jumped. “It’s Jon,” she revealed after glancing at the screen. “He must have checked my room and realized that it’s empty and I’m not there.” 

“Pass me the phone,” Petyr said. His voice was quiet but firm and Sansa slowly handed him the phone. He turned it off before pocketing it. “I don’t want anyone butting in before we can have our heart to heart,” he informed her, his tone light.

She didn’t reply as images of Jon’s worried face swam in her mind.

After what felt like hours, Petyr finally stopped at a little inn. Sansa gaped at the inn then back at him in surprise. “ _This_ is where you’re staying?” She couldn’t imagine someone as comfortable in their luxury as Petyr staying in such a place.

“All I need is a bed for the night,” he replied, before shutting off the car. 

The rain was still pouring and Sansa realized in dismay that she was going to get drenched before they made it inside. She reluctantly opened the door and stepped out, her clothes immediately getting soaked from the downpour.

“Inside, quickly,” Petyr told her, and she hurried after him. Once they made it to his room, he told her to get into the bathroom and take a hot bath. “You’re shivering, sweetling,” he reasoned, as she stood miserable and shaking, glancing around at the tiny room with one bed.

Sansa didn’t bother to argue. She was more than ready to part ways with her wet, cold clothes.

“Here,” Petyr said. “A change of clothes.”

She accepted the white material without glancing at it, and made her way to the bathroom. The tub looked clean, so she pulled up the plug and turned on the water. She poured some of the liquid soaps that were available into the water before struggling out of the clinging, damp material that the rain had turned her pajamas into, and stepping into the tub.

It felt like heaven as she sank down in the heated water. Her shivering was soon gone as she sat back and relaxed for a few minutes.


	21. Sansa

Sansa glanced down at the white clothing that she had slipped on after her bath. The shock had rendered her speechless. Her wet clothes drying on the tub railing out of the option, she marched out of the bathroom to find Petyr. 

The room felt toasty and Petyr shot her an apologetic look. “I had to turn up the heat so that I didn’t freeze to death while waiting for you to finish bathing,” he teased. “It’s not too hot, is it?” 

“No, it’s fine. Especially since you have me wearing a t-shirt that _barely_ covers me,” she huffed, remembering the bone that she had to pick with him. Sansa scowled down again at the white t-shirt that struggled to hit mid thigh. She wore absolutely nothing underneath and any wrong movement would expose a lot more than she was willing to.

“Sweetling, it’s all I have,” Petyr stated calmly. “I only packed two pants. One of which I’m wearing right now. And it’s soaked. The other is the one I will change into after I shower.” He paused. “I will bring your clothes in here and lay them near the heater. That would help them dry much quicker.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replied, smoothing the t-shirt. 

Petyr gave her a nod before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

A yawn escaped her and she eyed the bed, thinking of how inviting it looked. Eyelids heavy, she yawned again as her body seemed to realize the lateness of the hour. Sansa got into the bed, wondering if she should pull the thin comforter over herself. The precarious situation with the barely-there t-shirt finally convinced her to cover her body with the comforter even though the room was hot. 

She was semi asleep when the feeling of a body pressing against her startled her back to full consciousness. “Petyr?” she asked. 

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he told her.

But the sleepiness was held at bay for the moment. “Don’t you want to talk?” she murmured. His arms were wrapped around her middle and his body heat added to the already pressing temperature of the room. Sansa felt flushed and overheated, but she didn’t want to ask for the heat to get turned down. She needed her clothes to dry as quickly as possible so that she could change back into them. 

Petyr held her so tightly against him, his body pressed completely against her back. She didn’t dare to squirm or move, her bottom was right against his groin. She was aware of the thinness of the t-shirt that she wore. It rode up higher and higher along her thigh, threatening to leave her bottom exposed. The lack of any undergarment beneath the flimsy t-shirt made her uncomfortable.

 _He can feel everything,_ she thought, her face burning. And so could she.

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetling,” she heard him murmur into her hair. “Can I treat you special just for tonight?” Petyr pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Once your brother gets you back, I may never see you again. He’ll have you taken away from me.”

“That’s not true. Jon wouldn’t do that,” Sansa protested.

“He’s too young for any judge to take him seriously if he tried to claim custody of you,” Petyr agreed. “But his Uncle Benjen is not. He’s already demanding immediate custody of you. He’s arguing that he’s your uncle by blood while I’m only your uncle by marriage.”

Guilty tears flooded Sansa’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Jon is good. _And_ Uncle Benjen. They’re just trying to protect me.” She turned and lay on her back so that she could see him as she explained.

“Shh,” Petyr hushed her. “It’s just me and you tonight. Let’s not spoil it with unpleasant talk. Can I touch you, sweetling?”

His eyes were so sad and Sansa felt extremely guilty for putting Petyr in this situation. He’d always been good to her. Protected her for years. She nodded even as her body trembled, and was rewarded by the happy sparkle in his eyes. His grey-green eyes swirled with heavy emotions as he stared into her eyes and she held back the painful lump in her throat and wondered how disappointed Jon would be if he found out. _He would be disgusted._

_And Uncle Benjen would kill Petyr._

She almost told Petyr to stop as she felt his hands touching intimate places, but she owed him this much at least, so she kept quiet. _Maybe he won’t be so sad if I’m not allowed to live with him anymore if he has this memory of us._

“Do you want to take off the t-shirt, sweetling?” Petyr’s voice was in her ear even as he kissed up and down her jaw and neck, his small pointy beard slightly chafing her. 

Sansa’s heart thudded in her chest and her fingers clutched the bedsheets underneath them. “Okay,” her voice was small and nervous. It sounded as if it was coming from far away and she winced at the sound of it.

Petyr noticed and rubbed her arms in a comforting manner. “I will take care of you,” he promised.

But she was choking and she wasn’t really sure if she could be helped.

 _You let him,_ a voice reminded.

He helped her slip out of his t-shirt, leaving her completely nude and exposed. 

“Goodness, sweetling, you’re a beauty,” Petyr groaned, his molten eyes drinking her in. “You are my special girl. Always.”

“My special girl.” It was a soft whisper now. But the words barely registered as a silent scream rang in her ears.

_You let him. You let him._

It was a desperate mantra. But the words were as powerless as her.


	22. Sandor

Sandor downed his beer in one gulp, wondering if he should order something stronger. But he had to drive later so probably not. He ignored the ringing of his phone on top of the bar, hoping the caller would get the hint and give up. But to his irritation, the ringing persisted. Finally he snatched it up. “Sandor!” he barked into it. 

“Hello, um, this is Jon. I know it’s late but my sister is not here and I’m wondering if she’s with you?”

It was four a.m. in the morning. Sandor felt a headache starting to form as the question echoed through his mind. He closed his eyes wondering if the little bird had run away again after making such a big deal about seeing her brother.

“Did she run away?” Sandor rasped. “She has a pretty bad habit of doing that.”

“She was in her bed around ten p.m.. I checked on her before I went to sleep...” her brother’s voice broke off abruptly. He sounded extremely upset. 

“Did you try her uncle in California?” Sandor demanded. There was heavy silence on the other end of the phone. Which didn't improve Sandor's mood. 

“She’s not supposed to be near him.”

The seriousness of the voice on the other line had Sandor’s head throbbing with renewed fury. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he rasped, throwing money onto the counter, and standing up to head for his truck.

“He stole her. He told me all of my siblings were dead when he visited me in the hospital while I was recovering after the accident. Then he placed me with an adopted family in London. All of these years he’s had my sister after leading me to believe that she was dead and then breaking off all contact with me.”

Sandor’s headache was roaring now. “Call him,” he rasped. “I will call her.”

“I don’t have his number. And I already called her phone numerous times,” her brother’s voice sounded defeated. “She’s not picking up.”

“I put an app on her phone. A precaution since she tended to wander away so much when I was bringing her to your place. If her phone’s on I will be able to get her location. I will call you back,” Sandor barked. He ended the call and frantically pulled up the app, growling as the phone nearly fell out of his hand in his haste. There was a feeling spreading through him that he didn’t like. If he was a weaker man, he would have thought it to be fear.

Of course the little bird would flutter off again. This time she had fluttered herself right into danger, according to her brother.

_She’s not supposed to be near him. He stole her._ The words wouldn’t leave his head. They haunted him. Numbed him. If her uncle had taken her, he wouldn’t be willing to give her back. He would go on the run with her.

The pounding in Sandor’s head reached a fierce peak as the truth of the words hit him. If they didn’t find her soon, she was lost. Gone. Her uncle would make sure of it. As rich as her uncle was, he probably had a private jet at the ready, waiting to jet them off to places unknown.

He cursed as the app was unable to locate her phone. It was most likely turned off. The fury of not knowing where to start in his search left Sandor shaking. He had been banking on the app giving up her location in seconds. Already planning to speed to her and rescue her before any harm was inflicted. But now he was stuck. Clueless to her whereabouts. And helpless.

Fuck helplessness. It was a feeling that he hated more than anything in the world. He’d known it once before as a child, and that had been enough.


	23. Sandor

Sandor checked the app again, needing something to clear his mind. His little bird’s brother had called twice more already, sounding more and more deflated each time. No news or update from either side other than they had skimmed through the buildings security cameras which showed that she’d left through the back door before entering a dark vehicle parked nearby.

But they already knew who she was with and the car’s license plate hadn’t been picked up by the camera. The security cameras for the surrounding areas were being scoured through, but that would take some time.

In need of a strong drink and unable to satisfy that need, Sandor’s mood grew progressively darker by the minute. Knowing that he was only setting himself up for disappointment, he checked the app once more and nearly dropped his phone. The app had pinpointed a location about two and a half hours away. He blinked at the unexpected turnaround before placing his phone on the passenger seat. Intentional or unintentional it didn’t matter. The little bird’s phone was on and he had the location.

Sandor slammed down on the gas wondering if an abducted kid was a good enough reason to prevent issues with cops over speeding. The drive was long and the road still damp from the earlier downpour, so Sandor found himself traveling at a slower speed than he would have preferred. Frustration and worry warred with one another, each fighting to be the one that drove him insane.

What condition was she in? he wondered. _If that fucker had harmed her…_

He alerted her brother and uncle while stopped at a red light and their relief was palpable through the phone.

“We’re on our way with the police,” her brother told him. 

As soon as the traffic light turned green, Sandor dropped the phone, his wheels burning against pavement as he took off into the night. 

_Hold on, little bird._

* * * * * * * * * *

He’d always hated hospitals. He’d frequented them often when he was a child. His mother always seemed to have been in and out of one. And then after his face was burned, he had spent months in a hospital recovering. Twice in a matter of weeks he had been forced to return to one. First to visit his sister, and now for the little bird. 

Sandor roamed the hall near the visitor’s lounge unable to sit. He could barely recall the last few hours. Everything had passed like a blur. What he did remember was the most important thing. The little bird had been found and her uncle was in police custody.

Her uncle, Benjen, had been granted emergency custody and would be taking her back to his apartment once she was discharged from the hospital.

Sandor’s hands balled into fists again at the thought of her lying in a hospital bed possibly injured. He had only caught a glimpse of her at the inn before the police had escorted him out. He looked up as her brother headed down the hall in his direction. “Is she awake?” Sandor barked. 

“The doctors thought it best to allow her to sleep off her ordeal. She won’t wake for a couple more hours,” her brother informed him.

Sandor grunted.

“Uncle Benjen won’t leave her room. He thinks this is his fault,” the boy’s voice was solemn and heavy. “But it’s my fault. After I received Sansa’s letter I understandably was in shock. I wanted to send her a flood of letters but decided against it and instead convinced Uncle Benjen to hire a detective to look back into the accident involving my family... and Petyr Baelish’s activities and whereabouts during and after.

“Detective Tarth advised me that it was best not to send Sansa a return letter in case it was intercepted. It was very vital that Baelish was not tipped off about the investigation into the accident and his past. I kept all of this information from Sansa since he’s been raising her for the last few years and I didn’t want to overwhelm her and cause any further emotional damage...

“I should have told her. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to trick her into going with him...” The boy broke off and looked at him. The pain in his eyes reflecting the horror that the night’s events had wrought. “The rape kit came back positive. It's my fault. _My_ decision allowed him to hurt her.”

The rage in Sandor was so great that he felt the overwhelming need to destroy something. To tear someone apart with his bare hands. Specifically that bastard Baelish. He turned and stormed toward the exit door. Needing to be alone. Needing to calm down. But the fury refused to settle, constricting his throat as he thought of the unlimited access the fuck had had to _his_ little bird throughout the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had time to edit this as much as I would like. So sorry for any editing errors. I will look through it soon.


	24. Sansa

Sansa awoke, her head pounding and her throat dry. She was lying in a hospital bed she realized. 

Images from earlier started to come back to her. Petyr. Police. Ambulance. Hospital. Uncle Benjen. Jon. She groaned.

“Sansa?” Jon’s voice.

“How are you, love?” Uncle Benjen’s voice joined his.

They both appeared by the side of her bed, gazing down at her, pale faced and concerned. 

“Are you okay?” Jon questioned. 

She wasn’t sure. Nothing felt okay. “Where’s Petyr?” she croaked. 

Her uncle and brother’s faces darkened.

“He will _never_ hurt you again.” There was such venom in Uncle Benjen’s voice, but he didn’t understand. 

“No,” Sansa moaned. “Don’t let them hurt him, please.” She was whimpering. “This is my fault. I ruined _everything_.”

“Sansa!” Uncle Benjen looked stricken. “None of this is your fault.”

“Everything’s my fault,” she sobbed. “I ran away and now Petyr’s in trouble!”

“Is that what he told you?” Jon was furious. “That you’re to blame.”

“No,” Sansa whimpered. “I should have just waited. Then we all would have been happy and none of this would be happening.”

She started sobbing anew and Uncle Benjen wrapped an arm around her. “There’s someone that you need to meet,” he decided, after a few minutes of comforting her as she cried.

Jon went to the door and opened it, providing entrance to a gigantic blonde woman. “This is Detective Tarth,” he introduced. 

Sansa was shocked. “Did you hire a detective because I left last night? I told you that it was my fault. Petyr’s not to blame. Please.”

“Sansa,” Uncle Benjen’s voice cut sharply through her pleas. “We know what he did to you. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to defend him. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

She didn’t want Petyr to get into trouble. But she also didn’t want Uncle Benjen and Jon to know that she had said yes and allowed Petyr to do it. All she could do was curl into herself and sob miserably.

“What he did was wrong,” Jon said quietly, as her sobs turned to sniffles.

After Sansa had blown her nose and calmed herself, the detective stepped forward.

“Sansa, I have troubling news to tell you about this man called Petyr Baelish.”

Sansa wanted to scream as she listened to the words that poured out of the woman’s mouth. She didn’t want to hear what the giant lady was saying. Because it wasn’t true. Petyr wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. Not about the most important thing in the world to her. Not about her family.

A howl of agony left her throat when she couldn’t take it anymore. “Petyr wouldn’t!” she cried. She looked around wildly. “Petyr wouldn’t! He just wouldn’t! He loves me! He wouldn’t do that to me! _I’m_ his special girl!” 

The room was silent with only her crazed breathing audible in the tense air. Everyone was looking at her warily as if she might have to be subdued at any minute and it was too much.

Sansa flung off the covers, wanting to get away, but Uncle Benjen was there in an instant, laying a staying hand on her shoulder.

“Sansa,” his voice was gentle but firm.

She reluctantly settled back on the bed, but when her eyes landed on the blonde giant, her words assaulted Sansa again, raising doubt in her head.

_Petyr lied about Jon,_ a voice whispered. _He probably knew about Benjen too._

“Go away!” she screamed, wanting to shut it up. Her world was spinning out of control and falling apart and she couldn’t handle it. “Please. Please. Leave me alone,” she sobbed.

And then Uncle Benjen and Jon had their arms around her, holding her tightly and she sobbed and sobbed, wishing that she could wake up from the nightmare that the night had turned into. But it was morning now, and it was still persisting.

“I just want to be by myself,” Sansa whispered when the sobs had diminished and her tear ducts were as empty as she felt.

“We should have told you sooner,” Uncle Benjen’s voice was solemn and his eyes sad. “Then all of this could have been avoided. We left you unprotected, love, by keeping you in the dark.”

“I want to see the police report,” Sansa stated, looking at Detective Tarth. The lady handed her a file and Sansa received it with shaky hands.

The sickening information that the detective had revealed still flooded her head. Arya and Bran were alive.

Petyr had lied. He’d lied to her for so many years knowing how desperately she missed her family. But _he_ was the one that sent her siblings away and told her that they were dead. 

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She’d given Petyr something so special and it had all been based on a mountain of lies. As she read the police report her body shook. The brakes in her father’s car had been tampered with.

She remembered the call from Aunt Lysa that night. 

And Mother speaking to Father.

_"Lysa said Petyr insists that we must hurry or the reservations that he made would be for naught,"_ her mother’s voice had sounded in her ears.

Father had huffed. _"Baelish could bloody wait,"_ he had exclaimed.

And then another phone call from a hysterical Lysa. Robin had been given too much medicine and was being rushed to the hospital.

_"Hurry,"_ Petyr had said taking the phone. _"Speed if you must."_

Mother had the phone on speaker and Sansa had heard.

And Father had sped.

Sansa remembered something that Petyr had said when he visited her in the hospital that struck her as weird.

_"I didn’t know you were in the car too,"_ he had murmured. _"I was told you were staying home, sick with the flu."_

Now as she remembered everything, she felt sick to her stomach. She leaned over the side of the bed and emptied her stomach.

And then she didn’t feel like talking anymore. She didn’t feel like breathing really. Sansa lay back down on the bed and shut her eyes, wanting nothing more than for everyone to go away.


	25. Sandor

Sandor’s heart picked up a steady drumming in his chest as he walked towards her hospital room. He wasn’t sure if the little bird would be thrilled at seeing him. He wasn’t family and they had only known each other for a short period.

The nurse waved him into the room as he paused at the threshold, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

The little bird’s brother had told him that she’d refused to speak to anyone since the detective had broken the truth to her about the Baelish fuck.

Sandor lowered himself into a chair stationed by her hospital bed. 

She was pale and staring silently up at the ceiling, still refusing to acknowledge or talk to anyone apparently.

He would have chuckled at her stubbornness if he wasn’t filled with such fury at the bastard that called himself her uncle. But for her, Sandor hid his rage. 

His mouth opened and words started pouring out before his mind registered what he was saying. “I was six,” he rasped, “my brother and I were given toys by a woodcarver who was renting a warehouse that my father owned. My brother was gifted this amazing replica of a knight. As realistic as they come. Shiny and new. 

“I always envied his knight. My own superhero figure paled in comparison. Superheros weren’t real. I didn’t believe in their magic. But knights were real and brave and survived by brute strength and skill alone. So one night when my brother, only eleven, was out causing havoc, I sneaked into his room and stole his knight. He didn’t care for it, mind you, but it was his and he was furious that I had dared to touch it.

“Gregor, silent as a ghost, his eyes burning brighter than any hell, grabbed me, and shoved my face into the burning coal that heated our fireplace. My father lied for him. Protected him. Told everyone that I had been playing with the stove and my hair caught on fire.” Sandor snorted. “Gregor and my father were two of a kind, I tell you. Never met two crueler souls that took such pleasure in preying on the weak.”

The room was silent when he finally shut his mouth, and when he looked down at her he found her haunted eyes staring into his.

“He was no true brother. Family don’t hurt each other.” Her lips trembled as her words reminded her of the prick Baelish, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

He grasped her hand gently, running his thumb down her wrist in a comforting manner. “I’m sorry about everything, little bird. He shouldn’t have done what he did to you in that hotel room.” Sandor barely managed to keep the fury out of his voice.

“I let him do it,” her voice was small and scared. “Don’t tell my brother.”

Her words slammed into his chest, painful as a freight train. But he pushed his emotions away, keeping them locked up as tightly as possible. He didn’t trust himself not to find where Baelish was being kept and disassemble him limb by limb. “He took advantage of you,” Sandor rasped. “… And I did too when I kissed you.”

“I let him do it,” she repeated hollowly. “I thought he loved me.”

“That fuck only loves himself,” Sandor growled.

She was quiet for so long that he thought she wouldn’t speak to him again. He tensed as he wondered if she had taken her uncle’s side. The sound of her voice startled him. 

“He kissed me a lot. And sometimes he touched me... but he always said that he did it because he loved me or I looked really beautiful in that moment and he couldn’t help it.”

She stared back up at the ceiling and Sandor wanted to say something. But he suspected that any interruption would only make her clam up.

“It made me uncomfortable but I didn’t really realize just how wrong it was. Or maybe I did but I didn’t want to think about it so I pushed how sick I felt to the back of my mind and I just let him.” Her eyes slowly found his, as if she was afraid that he would judge her. “Petyr was all I had and I was afraid of losing him too and being alone in the world.” Her gaze silently implored him to understand.

There was a bitterness in Sandor that wanted to refuse to understand. The bitter part of him that had been contaminated and turned dark and rotten by his brother’s abuse. It flipped the blame on her instead. _You should have known what he wanted. What every male would want from you._

But she was a kid, trustful of the adults in her life. Trustful of him. And he had also forced his attention on her.

A war roared to life and raged inside of him. Light against darkness. And fueled by fury. Fury at her uncle, fury at her, fury at his brother, fury at himself, fury at the world for allowing the innocent to be hurt and broken.

He had been a broken child. He’d buried that broken child. Buried his past. But his guilt weakened him. Giving way for that broken child to attempt to claw back to the surface.

She was digging up that broken part of him with her vulnerability. Her innocence. And her pain.

In his mind Sandor was back in that inn, stepping into the tiny room. Coming face to face with the sight of her in a rumpled t-shirt that rode so far up her thighs, stopping only centimeters short of exposing her modesty. Her eyebrows had been furrowed as if even in her sleep peace evaded her. He had stared speechless, before the cops quickly led him back out.

Fresh ire arose in him as the thought of the hotel room forced his mind to think about what had occurred in it. 

A great wrath that caused him to want to lash out at everyone. Lash out at her for succumbing to her uncle’s lies. But especially at himself because he’d tried to protect her and never realized that her biggest threat was the one that she’d run away from. Even if only subconsciously. 

His internal war raged and raged, picking up steam the longer he reflected on the events that had occurred; and then he felt her squeeze his hand. 

“Jon said that you found me...Thank you for finding me.” 

The quiet voice drew his attention, guiding him out of the darkness that had been consuming him. The ugly feelings started to recede as Sandor took in her small, wobbly smile, and the uncertain but shy and hopeful look in her eyes. He slowly stroked her fingers before he returned her gentle squeeze. 

“Anytime, little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this writing spree is about. But I have been really inspired lately ^_^


	26. Sandor

“Sandor!” 

The unexpected excitement in her voice took him by surprise as he entered her room. Two days had passed since he last saw her, and since it was his last day in New York, he wanted to spend some time with her before leaving. 

“Little bird?” he replied cautiously. Was she feverish? Dreaming of better times? 

“I forgot to tell you last time, my little brother and sister are _alive_!” It was as if a switch had been flipped to _on_ inside of her. The lifeless, sullen girl from two days before was in hiding and this bubbly creature had taken her place.

Sandor listened as she told him about her siblings, holding himself in rapt silence because it brought her joy to speak about them. It rejuvenated her. The life had returned to her eyes and a happy flush painted her cheeks.

“I can’t wait to hug them,” she murmured as her chatter started to wind down.

“I’m sure they feel the same,” he replied, and was rewarded with a bright beam.

“I had to see a child psychiatrist yesterday.” Her nose wrinkled as she supplied this information. “Well she came to visit me, actually. But I’m getting discharged tomorrow. And after that I have to go to _her_.”

“Yeah?” Sandor grunted. “Well I think I might need to follow suit and see a psychiatrist for my own problems.”

Her face brightened up, although she maintained her grumbling. “You won’t like it,” she warned. “They’ll make you talk about your feelings and every awful thing that’s ever happened in your life.”

“I think you like talking,” he challenged her. 

She huffed. “Only about interesting things.”

Sandor snorted, but the little bird ignored him, looking down at her hospital gown. Her face had grown serious.

“The psychiatrist said it’s not my fault even though I said yes. Pe-Pety-He should have known better.” Her focus remained on the thread that she was pulling out of her hospital gown, and she refused to meet his eyes as she held herself stiff and upright.

“The psychiatrist’s right,” Sandor reassured. “I already told you that it wasn’t your fault.”

She finally looked at him. “Jon and Uncle Benjen said the same thing when they learned what happened...I finally told them. Uncle Benjen said a yes from a child is still a no. Because kids can’t consent and all that.” 

“Wise answer provided by your uncle,” Sandor acknowledged.

The little bird relaxed when he didn’t show any hint of blaming her, then swiftly changed the subject, seeming completely done with it and unwilling to linger now that her anxiety had been abated. “Will you visit me at my uncle’s and brother’s place tomorrow?” 

“Won’t be able to do that, little bird. I’m parting ways with New York as soon as I leave this room.” 

Her face dropped. “Oh.” The hollowness had crept back into her voice.

“You’ll have your brother and sister with you soon. You won’t even notice that I’m gone,” he told her.

“We won’t ever see each other again now that I live in New York.” Tears were swimming in her eyes. 

“We can always keep in touch through letters,” Sandor suggested. "Or however it is that people communicate nowadays." 

She sniffled as she looked at him. “Are you offering to be my pen pal, Sandor?” 

“I’m offering to write you letters when I get the chance,” he corrected, with gruff affection.

“You have to write me often,” she instructed. “And you have to visit me next time you’re in New York.” 

“Will do,” he promised.

Her eyes sparkled through her tears as she leaned forward and threw her arms around him, giving him a fierce hug. It was the first time that she’d hugged him and he wrapped his arms around her, returning her hug.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered.


	27. Sansa

_If I could be any animal I would have chosen a hound._ Sansa grinned as she read this, and then skimmed through the rest of his email. _I would be a wolf,_ she typed.

Sandor had upheld his promise and wrote her often, to her delight. She’d just finished sending a reply email to Sandor when Uncle Benjen told her they were leaving. Her uncle was taking her shopping since the majority of her clothes were still in California and she was running short on outfits.

“Coming!” Sansa called, jumping up from her chair. She already had her shoes on, so she shut down the computer before meeting up with him at the front door. “Ready,” she announced. 

The uber was parked out front waiting for them, the door already held open by the doorman who gave her a kind nod when she arrived in the enormous lobby. Sansa returned his nod before getting into the car.

“When are my things being brought to New York?” she asked as the car merged into the flow of traffic.

“As soon as the police are done with the place. I will hire some people to pack up everything of yours and transport them here,” Uncle Benjen told her.

“But I want to pack them myself,” Sansa protested. “Strangers aren’t really going to know what I want to keep.”

Uncle Benjen looked at her. “Being back there won’t bother you?” he questioned worriedly. 

“No,” Sansa answered truthfully. The house itself didn’t harbor any bad memories for her, even though thinking of Petyr was still unbearably painful. But as the police report and Detective Tarth’s words sank in, she was coming to realize the extent of Petyr’s role in the demise and scattering of her family. 

_One day it won’t hurt so much,_ she promised herself.

“Then once the police wrap up, we will fly down there so that you can take the time to look through your belongings and decide what you would like to keep,” Uncle Benjen amended.

“Okay,” she agreed, with an approving nod.

Shopping with Uncle Benjen turned out to be an interesting experience, with the two of them both in disagreement over what qualified as acceptable or unacceptable for a fifteen year old.

“That doesn’t even look nice,” Sansa told him as he held up a grandma looking overall, and then she giggled at the face that he made at her. “Oooh, I like this,” she later marveled, holding up a soft velvet shirt with a cutoff midriff and slightly drooping neckline. 

The shirt earned an immediate “no” from Uncle Benjen who maintained that it was not age appropriate. 

“You don’t even know what fifteen year old girls wear,” Sansa pouted.

“I know what they _shouldn’t_ wear,” he rebuffed, before going to look for outfits that he approved of.

After several more terrible clothing choices from him, she finally made up her mind. “ _I’ll_ pick out the clothes,” Sansa insisted, afraid that her uncle would have her looking like a third grader or a grandma.

The clothes that he picked out for her looked like clothes only a grandmother would approve, and the ones that she picked out he immediately complained about.

_That’s too short. That would show your belly if you raise your arms. That’s too tight._ Maybe he was right. Maybe it was only Petyr that didn’t mind when she wore things like that. 

They finally compromised on the clothes that she could get. Nothing too baggy or babyish and nothing too short, tight, or racy.

“It’s a miracle,” Sansa declared when they successfully completed the shopping process. “Four whole bags of clothes without killing each other.” 

Uncle Benjen chucked her beneath the chin as he said, “it’s a good thing you’ll be the one to carry all of them.”

“I think not,” she replied. But there was no need to worry about carrying them because Uncle Benjen picked up the bags with ease and transferred them into the trunk of the uber that he had called. 

When they arrived back at the condo, Sansa put away her new clothes while Uncle Benjen picked up his ringing phone. He was just ending the phone call as she stepped into the great room.

“Someone’s going to be here next week,” he told her. “Well two special someones.”

“Bran and Arya?” Sansa guessed excitedly. 

“Next week,” Uncle Benjen replied. 

Sansa squealed as she ran out onto the terrace. She absolutely couldn’t wait! She flung herself into one of the oversized chairs already imagining having her siblings back. _It would be me and Arya and Bran and Jon._ The fact that she still had a living family seemed like a dream to her sometimes. And she had to pinch herself to believe that it was real. 

“Uncle Benjen,” she said as he stepped out onto the terrace and plopped down on one of the lounge chairs. “Will they live here too?” She stared at him, hoping to hear a yes, but his quiet “I’m afraid not, love,” dashed her hopes and filled her with aching disappointment.

“Why not?” she asked. 

“Because their adopted families have legal custody now. We can’t just take them,” Uncle Benjen explained.

“But they’re _our_ family. _My_ brother and sister. And I love them and I want them back,” Sansa protested. 

“Believe me Sansa, more than anything I want to have them live with us too,” Uncle Benjen told her. “But now they have adopted families that also love them very much. And by law their adopted parents have all legal rights.” 

Sansa jumped up fuming and holding back bitter disappointment. “I love them more!” she cried, before running to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite chapter, but meh. I couldn't really focus today :/ The next chapter's going to be fun


	28. Sansa

It was with great reluctance that Sansa entered her psychiatrist’s office the following week. Today was the day that Arya was arriving and Uncle Benjen had already left to pick her up by the time Sansa awoke and began getting ready. Filled with restless energy, Sansa had decided to utilize it by walking to her appointment.

“I still find it hard to believe that Bran’s paralyzed,” Jon had mumbled, his brows furrowed, as he walked by her side to drop her off. Only three days prior, Uncle Benjen had revealed to them the devastating and permanent injury that Bran had sustained in the accident.

“It’s better than being dead,” Sansa voiced. The more that she learned about Bran, the more that it hit her that he was alive. Yes she was upset about his inability to use the lower portion of his body, but at least she would be able to hug him and hear his voice and see his eyes sparkle with mischief once more.

“I know,” Jon said. “But he used to love to climb so much. He was always getting into trouble when he climbed the huge trees on our property. Your mother was always so scared that he would fall.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose. Jon, Robb, Arya, and Rickon had been filled with delight at Bran’s gift for climbing to the highest branches of any of the trees located on the three acres of land that surrounded their estate. But Sansa had hated it. She always immediately ran to tell Mother whenever she spotted him climbing. Because Sansa was also afraid that he would fall and break his neck. Or become paralyzed. _But it wasn’t a fall from the trees that did it._

Too soon they’d arrived at her psychiatrist’s, and with a warm hug for her older brother, while her mind was filled with the memory of her younger one, she’d reluctantly opened the door and entered the building.

Now she was stuck here counting down the minutes, wishing that Uncle Benjen had allowed her to cancel her appointment for today and accompany him to the airport.

He’d told her no last night when she asked. _“You will see Arya when you return. But I want you to keep all of your appointments. It will help you get better. Help you heal.”_

When her session was finally over, Sansa flew out the door, nearly bumping into Uncle Benjen who was waiting for her. “You’re back! Where’s Arya?” she exclaimed, peering around him.

“Ready to leave?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

“Beyond,” she told him.

Although Sansa had welcomed the idea of walking here, she now balked at the thought of walking when Uncle Benjen suggested that they walk back to the apartment. “You’re just doing this to torture me,” she sniffed, letting out a long suffering sigh. The thirty minute walk seemed to last forever this time, and Sansa impatiently ran into the building when they finally reached it, breathlessly greeting the lobby staff as she hurried to the elevators. 

“Where is she?” Sansa demanded of her uncle as the elevator doors slid shut, but Uncle Benjen didn’t reply as they rode up to the condo. His eyes were filled with more mischief than Arya’s eyes had ever been, and Sansa huffed as the doors opened on their floor and Uncle Benjen exited, whistling a cheerful tune. 

By the time Sansa crashed into the condo, she was bursting with excitement. She ran down the gallery at full speed, spotting a pair of dark heads bowed together, deep in conversation. Her heart stopped as it recognized the smaller figure. “ARYA!” Sansa screamed. She tackled her sister, nearly crushing the younger girl as the force of her hug toppled them onto the couch. Jon was laughing beside them, and Sansa was nearly giddy with happiness. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were so full of tears that she could hardly make out her sister’s features. 

The thirteen year old was tiny, barely standing taller than Sansa’s shoulder, and her resemblance to Jon was stronger than ever. “You’re still as mushy as ever, I see,” Arya joked, but her grey eyes were misty and her grin watery, her cheeks still wet from previously shed tears.

“Oh, Arya,” Sansa sighed, enveloping her in another fierce hug.

“Don’t squish me!” the younger girl squeaked, causing Sansa to dissolve into happy giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pushed the fun back to the next chapter, sorry.
> 
> P.S. I don't know if I should have Arya call her adopted parents Mom and Dad


	29. Sansa

“I could hardly believe it when Mom said that someone wanted to speak to me. She had this weird look on her face, sad but happy at the same time and I became worried,” Arya admitted. “But then I heard Uncle Benjen’s voice and my heart stopped. I thought I was imagining things.”

“I can relate,” Sansa said. “When I first saw Uncle Benjen I nearly fainted. I didn’t know he was alive.”

“I didn’t know _anyone_ was alive,” Arya exclaimed.

“Same,” Sansa said. 

The four of them were sitting on the floor in a small circle, talking and catching up, reveling in each others presence, and getting used to the different accents that they all seemed to have acquired.

“This conversation is going to get repeated once Bran arrives tomorrow,” Jon stated.

“Remember when there were four heads of auburn hair and blue eyes and you two used to be the oddballs out?” Sansa mused. “Now _I’m_ the oddball out. At least until Bran arrives.”

Two sets of grey eyes stared back at her in amusement. “I think Jon and I were the standard. We take after Father’s side of the family. The Starks. The rest of you look like Tullys,” Arya declared.

Sansa looked at her uncle. “Uncle Benjen doesn’t have grey eyes either. And he’s a Stark like Father.”

“Yes he does. His are blue-grey. There’s grey in there,” Arya observed. 

“And blue too,” Sansa defended. 

Uncle Benjen interrupted their debate as he said, “You all sound so different. I swear there’s an accent from every different part of the world.”

Arya’s Australian accent was even more distinct than Jon’s British one. 

“Bran is flying in from New Zealand, isn’t he?” Sansa asked as her eyes lit up. “His accent is going to be so interesting.”

They spent the rest of the day snuggled together on the couch, talking and laughing, retelling old memories and stories. Sansa also joyfully showed Arya the picture of her with the fake mustache, painted muscles and unibrow, topped off with a bandana on her head.

“Oh no,” Arya gasped between laughter, “that’s awful!”

Sansa saw the adoration in Jon’s eyes as he tickled Arya to make her laugh more. The love and admiration that the two held for one another was hard to miss.

By the time Uncle Benjen sent them off to prepare for bed, it was past midnight.

“Sansa, look,” Arya said, sitting next to her after they each had brushed their teeth, showered and changed into pajamas. 

Sansa noticed the object in her lap and leaned down for a closer inspection. 

“It’s called Needle. Jon gave it to me shortly before the accident. He knew how much I loved practicing HEMA with him and Robb.”

“Can I hold it?” Sansa asked, looking at Arya. Her sister nodded and Sansa carefully picked up the HEMA sword. It was sleek and thin. Made for a child. 

In her mind she could picture fourteen year old Jon secretly gifting nine year old Arya with the sword. Her little sister had been such a tomboy even then. Her and Jon thicker than thieves.

“I’m the best Longsword Fencer in my town,” Arya said, a fierce satisfaction glinting in her eyes. “I beat _everyone_. I also challenged Jon to a duel.”

Arya’s eyes were so mischievous that Sansa had to laugh. “When?” she asked gleefully.

“When Bran gets here,” Arya replied.

“I bet you’re going to win,” Sansa predicted as Arya put Needle away.

“I bet so too,” Arya agreed. “I’ll stick him with the pointy end!”

The two of them got into bed chatting excitedly, unable to settle down and fall asleep.

It was a night full of whispered secrets, laughter, and tears, and when the sisters finally drifted off to sleep, Sansa found that sleep was difficult to maintain as she alternated between sleeping soundly and peacefully, to waking up every hour to bask in the novelty of having her sister next to her.

When morning arrived she felt tired but oddly rejuvenated.

Arya grabbed her hand as she slowly sat up. “Get up, Sansa!” she insisted, her grey eyes shining with excitement. “Bran is arriving today and we’re all going to the airport.”


	30. Sansa

Arya and Jon’s chatter were filling up the van. Sansa remained silent as she listened to them reminisce about shared mischief or daring adventures they had gone on together near their childhood estate in Fars Hill, N.J. All of which Sansa had missed out on, prim and proper as she was back then. 

Sansa beautiful and delicate even at eleven, had preferred tea parties with her best friend Jeyne Poole who she’d met at Far Hills Country Day School. A girly girl like her, Jeyne and Sansa would often giggle for hours as they gossiped while sipping tea or sewing. Sometimes they would play with their wide array of china dolls, although they often wondered if they were growing too old for them.

 _Remember when we?_ Those words seemed to precede every shared memory as Jon and Arya laughed and conversed, lost in their own world; their tight bond effortlessly picking up right where it had left off the last time they’d seen each other. It was as if the years apart had never occurred. 

Sansa loved her siblings and she knew that they loved her, but she had never shared a tight bond with either of them like Jon and Arya had, or Robb and Jon used to, or even Bran and Rickon. The littlest ones who bonded over frequently being left behind by their older brothers and wild sister.

Sansa had always just been there. The proper one who frightened easily, disliked rough play, and was always quick to run and tattle. She sighed. How she regretted it now. 

Uncle Benjen looked at her. “Are you okay, love?” his voice was kind and caring and she smiled at him before she nodded. 

Snuggling against her uncle’s side and resting her head on his shoulder, Sansa closed her eyes, anticipation running through her at the thought of reuniting with Bran.

It was with a stomach full of nerves that Sansa walked through the airport towards arrivals. The fingers on her right hand had turned numb from how tightly Arya squeezed them. The younger girl was just as nervous as Sansa although she masked it better.

“He should be around this area,” Jon muttered, sounding as anxious as she felt.

They peered around as they neared the area Bran was supposed to be waiting.

“There he is,” Uncle Benjen suddenly said.

Sansa’s head turned sharply, her gaze following his pointing finger until her eyes settled on their mark. She would recognize that shock of vibrant auburn anywhere.

"The Tully hair," Father always used to tease. 

The little boy to whom it belonged, sat in a wheelchair, appearing vulnerable and uncertain as his eyes anxiously roamed over the crowd. He looked younger than his eleven years.

It was Bran, tiny and alive. In one movement, they all rushed him, overcome with emotion. Bran’s eyes lit up as he spotted them, immense relief and joy sweeping over his previously pale and taut features.

His wheelchair almost rolled back under the force of their combined weights, but Bran didn’t seem to mind as he hugged them back just as fiercely. His huge crystalline eyes were overflowing as he took in the sight of his siblings and uncle. 

Sansa’s tear streaked face was buried in his hair and she was squished between everyone but she hardly noticed. Neither of them seemed temporarily capable of speech, and for a while all that could be heard was sniffling here and there, which eventually gave way to happy laughter as they finally stepped back to drink in the sight of one another. 

The ride back to the condo was even louder than the ride to the airport. Everyone engaged in happy conversation, sharing their favorite memories that included Bran who was laughing merrily in the back, his wheelchair locked into place.

The door man and front desk staff peered at them with barely concealed interest as they headed to the elevators, but they maintained their professional distance as they offered a polite nod and “good day.”

Sansa couldn’t blame them. Jon and Uncle Benjen had lived here alone for a year or so and now suddenly all of these missing family members were showing up out of the blue. It must be intriguing from the view of an outsider. 

“Is it weird having a new mother and father?” Sansa questioned, after Bran’s luggage had been settled into the bedroom that he would be occupying and they had gathered in the great room. She couldn’t fathom having two strangers trying to replace her beloved mother and father. 

“It was weird at first,” Arya voiced. “But I grew used to them and now I love them too. I haven’t forgotten Mother and Father, I will always love them of course —”

Bran nodded in agreement.

“— I just have room in my heart for my adopted parents too.”

Jon nodded understandingly. He had also lived with adopted parents and still kept in touch with them. Twice already this week his adopted mother had phoned. 

Sansa didn’t understand it so she changed the topic. Petyr had never pretended to be her parent. He’d always been her uncle.

 _In a way_ I _was the lucky one,_ she thought.

“Can we visit our old house?” Bran asked, and they all looked at their uncle. 

“What happened to it anyway? Was it sold?” Arya added, the thought looked as if it pained her. 

“It was on the market … When I found out, I bought it so no one else could,” Uncle Benjen explained. “It’s still there.”

Sansa gasped. “Please, let’s visit then,” she pleaded.

Uncle Benjen nodded. “Since all four of you are together for this short while, we can go tomorrow. It’s an hour drive.”

Bran reached out to hug him and Arya leaned forward to join the embrace. It somehow ended with all five of them hugging each other tightly, holding back sudden emotion.

It wasn’t until after one a.m. that they finally prepared for bed. And even then Sansa’s mind was too active to settle down. Her head was bursting with all of the things that she wanted to share with Sandor. 

After receiving permission from Uncle Benjen, she made her way to the computer nook situated to the right of the kitchen. The shiny white computer desk was attached to the glass wall, providing her a view of the skyscrapers and One World Trade Center rising tall and bright in the distance, while the overhead sky was dark and mysterious in contrast.

She eagerly logged into her email and read through her mails before beginning to type:

 

Dear Sandor,

I miss you!!! Arya and Bran are here. They’re going to be staying for a whole week! I never realized how much I needed them until I saw them again. I’m going to miss them so much when they leave. I told Uncle Benjen that they should live with us since they’re _our_ family. But he says their adopted parents are their legal guardians. I’m glad that _I_ was never adopted. I wouldn’t like having two people who aren’t my parents pretend to be. But Arya and Bran seem to love their adopted parents. Jon too. How old were you when your parents died? Did they die when you were a kid? Were you and your siblings adopted into another family? Write to me soon!

Sincerely, 

Little Bird :)

 

Sansa realized as she shut down the computer, how much she missed hearing Sandor’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be out sometime this week


	31. Sansa

It was a few minutes after breakfast when they gathered on the terrace for Jon and Arya’s HEMA match. The ground where the two were to compete was padded with several mats and they had donned their protective gearing.

Arya was the face of cool confidence as she rounded off against Jon.

It was easy to see that Jon was holding back and Arya took full advantage of this, striking out with her blunt sword without any reserve. 

They both struck with discipline but Arya initiated the attacks while Jon countered them.

Quick and skillful she lunged and danced out of reach. Calm and swift Jon seemed to be gaining respect for her and taking her more seriously, though he was still loath to strike first. His hesitancy cost him as Arya struck him again with her HEMA sword. Jon retaliated, striking a blunt blow to her shoulder.

Quick as a whip, Arya dropped her blunt sword and tackled Jon, locking his knees together by wrapping her arms around them and connecting her head with his midriff. 

A startled gasp escaped from Jon as he toppled backwards onto the mat. “You cheated!” he exclaimed.

“I know,” Arya’s grin was wide and unapologetic. “I already won anyway. You weren’t going to beat me.”

“Rematch,” Jon demanded. “This time I won’t hold back.”

Arya grinned. “If you insist,” she replied.

True to his words, Jon didn’t provide Arya any leeway now that he was aware of what she was capable of. He quickly put her on the defensive as he expertly wielded his blunt sword.

“Go Jon!” Bran cheered.

Sansa picked up the cry although it was Arya that she rooted for. “Come on, Arya! You can do it!” she encouraged.

Their cheers spurred the two on as the competition heated up. Jon ended up winning the round which only increased Arya’s determination. “I’m winning this next one,” she stated.

By the time it was time to leave, Jon had won several more rounds over Arya who had also snagged a few more victories.

“Time for everyone to head down and pile into the van,” Uncle Benjen finally ordered.

He had rented a van that could support Bran’s wheelchair, and they were all in a merry mood as he headed west towards Far Hills.

“Would it look the same? I hope it does. Does it, Uncle Benjen?” Bran asked anxiously. 

“It should. I hired cleaners to maintain it every once in a while,” Uncle Benjen replied.

“Why can’t we live there?” Sansa wanted to know. 

Uncle Benjen shrugged. “It’s not my house. It’s for you kids to decide what to do with it when you’re old enough. I don’t mind preserving it, but living there I won’t do.”

Arriving at the estate felt like being catapulted back in time. The exterior remained the same, the landscaping still up kept thanks to Uncle Benjen.

Bran’s face was crestfallen as Arya took off at a run, most likely headed to some favorite secret spot. He couldn’t freely explore like the rest of them and reacquaint himself with the property, but Uncle Benjen was trying to help as he maneuvered Bran to areas that he struggled to reach.

Sansa spun around in a slow circle as she took it all in, dazed, she made her way inside, making a beeline for her childhood room.

Her breath caught as she stepped into her old room. The furniture was gone but the design was still the same. The wall and ceilings remained the same mix of pretty pastels, reflecting the fairytale dreams of the little girl she had once been. The bronze wooden floors were glossy and polished. The small chandelier that she had begged for twinkling and dazzling as the streaming sunlight caught its crystals.

Slowly she walked through the room, trailing her fingers along as she familiarized herself with everything, yet she had never forgotten. This room was engrained into her memory. She could picture everything, remember the furniture as if she had only stepped out yesterday.

Thirty minutes later Sansa stepped out, her feet leading her to the room that magnified the ache in her heart and solidified the lump in her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she stood alone in the enormous master room that belonged to her parents, wishing that they were still here. “Come back,” it was a whispered impossibility. But it was true and she wished for it with all of her heart. 

There was Mother’s walk in closet. Sometimes she would let Sansa try on her clothes. Sansa adored the fancy dresses and hats and scarves. The beautiful heels. 

There was the balcony where Mother and Father would sometimes stand and watch them running around the property. It had been Sansa’s favorite spot and she'd loved standing next to Father, her chin resting on the railing as she stared with a bird’s eye view over the property.

She left the balcony, reentering the room, and headed to the master bathroom with its humongous sunken tub. Sansa and her siblings had splashed around together more often than she could count when they had taken bubble baths together. But by the time Rickon was born they were too old for that.

Rickon’s room was nearby and a raw pain tore at her heart as Sansa stepped into his nursery. Rickon the baby. He’d only been three. 

A nursery the color of the sky, in this room his Tully eyes always seemed to shine so bright. The ceiling was decorated with various pictures of the trains that he used to love so much. Red and blue and green. Staring up at them used to help him sleep.

Sansa abruptly spun around and left, massaging her throat as if to get rid of the tightness.

After a few deep breaths to get her bearings, she made her way into Robb’s room only to come upon Jon whose face was pale and drawn. His head was down as he stood in silence, paying his respect to the boy that had not only been his brother, but his best friend. Sansa silently crept back out leaving him to grieve.

They gathered back outside an hour later to eat. A blanket was laid on the ground and a picnic set up under the shade of a large oak tree that Sansa was only too familiar with, having sat underneath it many times with Jeyne during their tea parties. 

The big oak provided them cool shade as they laughed and conversed between bites of fruits, crackers, and sandwiches stuffed with delicious slices of meat, tomatoes, cheese, onions, and lettuce, which were chased down with sips of ice cold beverages.

Arya lay down on the blanket satisfied. “I don’t know if this is the best day ever or the saddest day ever.”

There was a slight heaviness when it was time to leave, the sun had set and the sky was darkening.

“I wish we could come back soon. I wish that I didn’t live in New Zealand,” Bran said sadly.

But Sansa wished that she could be back in Mother and Father’s room, speaking to them a while longer. _I should have told them about Petyr. What he did._ But she still didn’t want to think about what he did.


	32. Sansa

They were all seated in the great room together, each absorbed in their own activity when Bran cleared his throat to get their attention. “Here,” Bran said shyly. “I drew all of you.” 

There were several sheets of paper laid out on the table in front of him, along with his sketchbook, and an array of color pencils. Sansa gasped as she picked up one of the papers. “Bran, this is beautiful,” she exclaimed. 

Arya nodded her agreement. “It’s not often that someone can beat me at something, but I have to admit that these are better than anything I could have drawn.”

Sansa stared at the picture that Bran drew of their parents. _It’s so realistic,_ she marveled, as her fingers traced the beloved features in wonder. Father’s kind grey eyes and Mother’s proud blue ones full of the love that she always bore for her children stared back at her so familiar and yet so unreachable. Sansa gently placed the drawings back down and looked through the others. 

Bran had also captured Robb well. Handsome and proud, his eyes full of kindness. Sansa sighed as she put down Robb’s drawing and picked up one of Jon. It was also breathtakingly drawn, Jon’s trademark solemn face and a fierce loyalty shining out of his proud eyes. 

Next Sansa found herself holding a drawing with her own face and blue eyes staring up at her. There was a vibrant smile on her face and kindness shining out of her eyes, mixed with hopefulness and the smallest hint of shyness. Staring a while longer as warmth coursed through her, she finally placed the drawing down and picked up another.

Sansa smiled at Bran’s capturing of Arya with her sly grin and eyes full of mischief, her ability to somehow still manage to maintain a look of innocence about her face (one she often wore even as she jumped out at an unsuspecting victim with a sneak attack that included a whack with her faithful Needle before scampering away and escaping retaliation).

And finally Rickon with his face full of mischief and the easy happiness of a toddler.

Bran had always been gifted when it came to drawing. Often spending hours sketching pictures of a raven with three eyes, enormous direwolves, creatures that were formed from winter itself, and a wall of ice that seemed to rise into the very sky. Father and Mother had been amazed at his endless imagination.

Clever at climbing and skilled at drawing, Bran had certainly been a special child.

Jon ruffled his hair. “You are skilled beyond anyone else. You will get far, I know it.”

The days flew by in a blur of happiness and laughter, until it reached the night before the two younger Starks were scheduled to leave. Then the anxiety took over.

“Sansa,” Arya whispered, the two had their arms wrapped tightly around each other, “I’m not going to leave tomorrow. I’ll throw a fit if they try to make me. I’ll run...” Arya’s voice trailed off, giving way to sniffles and they held each other tighter.

And so the next morning began with chaos.

Uncle Benjen had tried to make Sansa go to her psychiatrist appointment while Bran and Arya were driven to the airport but Sansa had put her foot down, refusing to dress up as she sat on her bed in her bra and panties. Uncle Benjen could hardly force her out the front door in only her underclothes and he’d given up and slammed out of her room frustrated. 

Arya had taken her hint and was refusing to come out of the shower. “I’m not going!” she yelled for everyone to hear. Uncle Benjen was torn between wanting her to stay and knowing that she legally needed to leave.

Sansa was smirking until a loud screech sounded from beyond her room door. She jumped up and ran out of the room.

Bran was howling as Uncle Benjen secured him into the wheelchair. Poor Bran couldn’t put up as much resistance as the rest of them. 

“Uncle Benjen, don’t take him away!” she cried.

“SANSA, GO PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!” he bellowed when he spotted her.

“You can fight the adoptions,” Jon was fired up as he took in the commotion. “The adoption was based on Baelish’s deceit and fraud. Legal rights awarded by falseness can always be fought.”

Uncle Benjen seemed to be seriously contemplating Jon’s remarks and hope began to unfurl inside of Sansa.

“That’s true,” their uncle finally said. “But at this moment they still legally need to return to their adopted family. We can’t break rules by keeping them if we want a fair chance at winning.”

Jon seemed more cheerful and willing to help round up the younger kids afterward. He knocked on Sansa’s room door. “Arya!” he called.

The younger girl had finally left the bathroom and her screech could be heard loud and clear. “I’m not going! Tell them I love them and I will visit them often but I’m staying here with you guys!”

“Arya listen, we have a plan. Uncle Benjen is going to fight the adoption claims because they were based on lies told by Baelish. He fooled everyone and the court will take that into consideration,” Jon assured her.

Arya finally cracked the door open a bit, her pale face slightly visible. “What did he lie about?” she asked.

“He lied about all of you guys being dead. That’s why Uncle Benjen couldn’t get custody of you. He lied about a lot more too. But if you want to help us win then you have to do your part and listen. If you don’t get on your plane it will reflect poorly on us. Makes us look as if we’re trying to sabotage your adopted family’s rights. We can’t win by starting off in violation of the law.”

Arya sighed heavily but she seemed to be willing to listen as she closed the door, stepping back out fifteen minutes later dressed and ready to go. “I want breakfast,” she declared. 

Anna had arrived earlier to cook up a load of food which were laid out on the island table, preserved under aluminum foils.

“Bran’s already eating, you can go join him,” Uncle Benjen told Arya.

Sansa started to follow along but Uncle Benjen ordered her back to her room to put on proper clothes. She huffed as she entered her room, dressing speedily and running a brush through her hair before making her way to breakfast.

Quiet seemed to have been achieved if not peace. Arya was scowling and Bran’s eyes were leaking, Uncle Benjen’s brows was furrowed and Jon was staring darkly into his food. Joining them, Sansa piled her plate with food, her mind swirling furiously as she ate.

Too soon breakfast was over and Uncle Benjen was looking wary as he told Arya it was time to head downstairs. Arya looked as if she was debating whether to comply or make a run for it. She chose the latter, making a dash towards the gallery but Uncle Benjen caught her.

“I love them but I love you guys more!” Arya screeched. “I want to STAY!”

Uncle Benjen lifted the slight girl who was screaming and kicking. “Get Bran,” he ordered Jon gruffly before turning to Sansa. “You’re going to stay in the van to make sure that Arya doesn’t jump out while Jon and I are getting their luggage.”

It took teamwork and the doorman having to pitch in, but finally Arya was maneuvered through the door frame that she clung to, settled into the van, and successfully restrained by seat-belts. 

Unfortunately she managed to deliver multiple painful kicks before this happened, and the doorman gave a pained smile before retreating back into the lobby, but his pocket was fatter from the cash that Uncle Benjen had paid him for his troubles.

Sansa followed Jon back upstairs to carry down the luggage since Uncle Benjen realized that he would have to be the one to keep an eye on Arya. 

After what seemed like forever, they were finally all settled into the van and headed to the airport. 

“I hate this day,” Bran muttered.

Sansa fervently agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any editing errors, they will be dealt with soon.


	33. Sansa

The drive back home was silent and tense.

Sansa wasn’t sure if her heart could hurt any worse. She went straight to her room and threw herself on her bed as soon as they entered the condo. After an hour of listless staring, she asked Uncle Benjen if she could use the computer.

“Sure,” was his quiet reply, so Sansa made her way to the computer and turned it on.

She was pleased to find that Sandor had replied to her last email and hurriedly read his reply:

 

Little Bird,

My mother died when I was six. The old man when I was twelve. I wasn’t adopted, I was sent to shit foster cares. I escaped all of them and ended up in a group home until I was eighteen. It’s good that you’re having fun with your siblings. You’re one of the lucky ones. You were born into a good family. Don’t be too sad when your siblings leave, you can keep in touch with them like we’re doing until you see them again.

Your friend,

Sandor

 

The reminder of why she felt so dejected caused the gloominess to rise over her again as she typed with numb fingers:

 

Dear Sandor,

I don’t want to have to write to them. I just want them here.

Sincerely,

Little Bird :’(

 

Sansa didn’t have much to say after that, so she logged off and went back to her room to sulk.

Jon and Uncle Benjen appeared just as downcast as her during dinner time and that made her feel a little better. But she knew that nothing would truly make her happy until Arya and Bran were back.

Sansa found it difficult to sleep that night, drifting in and out of a fitful dream.

_They were all in the car, Robb and Jon were laughing in the back with baby Rickon’s chuckles echoing their own. Arya was glaring daggers because she had wanted to sit in the back with Robb and Jon but she was forced to sit in the middle seat with Sansa and Bran. Sansa looked at Bran who was absorbed in the three eyed raven that he was sketching in his sketch book; completely oblivious to the activities of his family all around him. Even at seven he was already incredibly gifted._

_Sansa settled back in her seat, content to have her family surrounding her. She was still sick with the flu and Mother had originally decided that she would stay home, but Sansa had pleaded and cried until Father relented and allowed her to go out with the family. She felt safe listening to her older brothers’ laughter in the back, but their laughter only made Arya pout more, while Bran continued to grunt his concentration._

_Her parents’ soft murmurs were drifting from the front seat and then Mother’s phone rang. Sansa’s attention snapped to it as worry started unfurling in her chest, but she didn’t know why. As Mother spoke on the phone, Sansa’s worry grew._ Something bad’s going to happen, _it was a mantra in her head. She felt a desperate need to grab all of them, her whole family and wrap her arms around them._

_And then the bad thing struck. Father tried to slam on the brakes but they didn’t work. She’d known they wouldn’t. They were all flying and screaming as the car hurtled through the air and then fell, filling the air with the sounds of crushing, smashing, and shattering. Sansa couldn’t move, all she could do was cry silently, her face drenched with tears as the eery silence took over. But somewhere she could hear a scream and it grew louder._

“Sansa, love, open your eyes. It’s only a nightmare.”

“No!” Sansa yelled, panicked at the crushing silence that seemed to be weighing her down.

“Sansa!”

Her eyes popped open to find Uncle Benjen shaking her frantically.

Jon’s face was pale as he stared at her.

Sansa bolted up as she wrapped her arms around her uncle’s neck. “Uncle Benjen, don’t let me lose them! Save them! Please!” she was hysterical.

Uncle Benjen sat on the side of her bed and pulled her close. “Shh. It’s over. It was just a nightmare,” he murmured, rubbing her back. He held her until her sobbing turned to hiccups and the tears had dried up on her cheeks.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” she hiccuped.

Uncle Benjen looked worried. “I don’t think so,” he said. “That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Please,” Sansa begged, not wanting to be left alone to suffer through more painful dreams.

“We could camp out on the terrace,” Jon suggested. “That way you won’t be alone. Uncle Benjen has a collection of sleeping bags.”

Sansa looked at her uncle as she held her breath. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” he finally said.

She jumped up. “I need water first.”

“So do I,” Jon said, “I’ll accompany you.”

Jon wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to his side as they walked to the kitchen. “I dreamed about them too,” he whispered.

“I remember you and Robb laughing in the backseat,” Sansa’s voice was sad as she spoke of their dead brother. Jon and Robb had been inseparable.

Jon’s face looked so haunted that Sansa immediately hugged him, wanting to take away some of his pain. His arms wrapped around her as he hugged her back.

They stood there embracing each other for a longtime, until Uncle Benjen called from the great room, “the sleeping bags are all set!”

They each quickly poured some water and gulped it down before heading to the terrace.

There were three sleeping bags laid out next to each other. And Sansa felt a smile break out across her face as warmth spread through her chest. She slipped into the middle one, squirming around until she was comfy. 

Uncle Benjen and Jon followed suit, settling into their own sleeping bags.

All around them skyscrapers were lit up, their blaze substituting that of stars. It was like sleeping in the sky among the skyscrapers.

With Uncle Benjen and Jon on either side of her, Sansa stared up at the dark sky overhead that seemed so close, treasuring the moment. Finally her eyelids started to droop close as the cool breeze blew over them and Sansa sighed contentedly before drifting off to sleep.


	34. Sansa

Sansa stared down at her lap, her insides knotted with conflict. She’d been sitting in this office for hours, in a meeting with Detective Tarth, Uncle Benjen, Jon, and the officer in charge of Petyr’s case. They were discussing the charges against Petyr and the possibility of the case going to trial in the near future. It was necessary for Jon and Sansa to testify.

That last part made her nervous. It was all that her mind could focus on, drowning everything else out. Four counts of 1st-degree premeditated murder was what they were pushing for in response to Petyr’s tampering with Father’s brakes. A hand on her shoulder caused Sansa to startle and look up.

“You and Jon will testify about the phone calls that were made that night. Specifically Baelish’s call in which he instructed your father to speed,” Detective Tarth said.

“What about Arya and Bran? They were in the car too. Will they have to testify also?” Sansa asked, her mouth dry.

“That’s a good question,” Uncle Benjen interjected. “That would require an intense conversation with their adopted parents.”

Detective Tarth gave a sharp nod. “We will figure out the best way to approach them.”

“Now to seal the deal and make sure that Baelish gets everything that he has coming to him, we can also press charges for rape. Third-degree rape charges for sex with a minor under the age of seventeen can carry up to a four year prison term. We can’t go for first-degree because it wasn’t forcible...” The voice trailed off as the sound of shuffling papers filled the air.

Sansa could feel the weight of eyes on her and she squeezed her palms together while digging the nails of her entwined fingers into the back of her hands.

She wanted to disappear.

She hated being reminded about the inn. Hated talking about it or thinking about it, and so far had done well to pretend it never happened. 

“Sansa, will you be willing to testify about what happened at the inn?” 

_No. Don’t make me._

Her distress must have been noticeable because the voice continued. “If you aren’t up to it, we understand. It’s often difficult testifying about rape — ”

_It wasn’t rape._ Sansa was so confused. She knew it was wrong.

“— We’ll give you a few days to think over it before making your decision.”

_Rape is evil. What Petyr did was wrong. But it wasn’t rape. Rape meant strangers forcing you down and tearing at your clothes, hitting you and hurting you..._

“I think that’s all for today.”

_Petyr was wrong but he was gentle… It only hurt when —_

Sansa jerked her head towards her uncle. “Can we go?”

“We’re wrapping up,” he said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I’m going to wait outside,” she decided.

“Sansa —” Uncle Benjen started, but she ignored him, hurrying to the door and pulling it open, escaping out of the room that made her feel as if she were suffocating.

Sansa hurried down the hall, out of the lobby, and made her way outside, grateful for the breeze that gently blew over her, cooling her cheeks and catching strands of her hair, causing them to dance around her. 

She had several minutes to herself before Uncle Benjen and Jon appeared outside. “When are you going to court to get the adoptions repealed?” she immediately demanded, wanting to distract them from questioning her about why she left. 

“One battle at a time, Sansa,” Uncle Benjen said. “First let’s get the bastard Baelish behind bars so that people will have no doubt about his guilt.”

Sansa chewed on her bottom lip, the thought of being front and center in court talking about what had occurred in the inn made her want to vomit. She couldn’t do it. Hopefully testifying about the accident would be enough. 

When they arrived home, Sansa sat on the couch and watched TV with Jon. She tried to empty her mind and focus on the show, but all she could think about was everyone’s expectation for her to testify about the inn.

“I can’t do it,” she mumbled at dinner time. She stared into her plate, not wanting to witness their expressions. 

“Can’t do what?” Uncle Benjen asked, his voice was full of worry and Sansa wanted to sink into her seat. 

“I can’t talk about the inn. Not in front of everybody.” Even in the silence her voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay, Sansa. We’ll be there to support you. You won’t be alone,” Jon said.

“I know,” Sansa muttered. “It’s not just that. I just don’t want to. I don’t want to do it.”

“Why not?” Uncle Benjen wanted to know.

Sansa’s eyes pooled with tears. She didn’t have a proper answer other than she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Tears spilling down her cheeks, she jumped up and ran out of the dinning room, hurrying to her room and throwing herself on her bed. 

No one disturbed her, which she was grateful for. But the silence also allowed her to wallow in her misery. She ended up heading to the computer, needing to share some of the turmoil whirling inside.

 

Dear Sandor, 

I can’t do it.

I was supposed to press charges so I could testify against Petyr for what happened at the inn and I couldn’t. I know I disappointed everyone but I just can’t. I wish I could be braver. As brave as a wolf. As brave as the knights that you used to love.

I will testify about the phone calls that Petyr made to Mother shortly before the accident. Jon will testify too so that makes me feel better. I never told you because it hurts to think about, but Petyr caused the accident that killed my family. Everything’s so tense right now and I wish that Petyr could be charged without me having to testify.

Your sad,

Little Bird :(

 

She shut down the computer and headed towards the terrace where they’d been sleeping for the past few days. Uncle Benjen and Jon were already there. Neither seemed disappointed in her but she was still miserable and it took her forever to fall asleep.

Sansa shifted in her sleep whimpering. She hadn’t dreamed about him ever since the inn.

_“Forgive me, sweetling," she heard him whisper. He tried to press a kiss to her lips but she pushed him away._

_“You killed my family. I would have forgiven you for anything. Even for having sex with me but not for hurting my family. Never that.”_

She woke with tears on her cheeks and an ache in her heart. “I wish...” she started to say. But she wasn’t sure what she wished for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is processing her feelings.


	35. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets a gift

Sansa was startled when she walked into the psychiatrist’s office the next day and saw another lady in there with her.

The psychiatrist introduced her as the psychologist that would be working with Sansa for her psychotherapy sessions. 

Sansa just stared in confusion until the psychiatrist nodded encouragingly for her to sit.

Most of the session was spent getting Sansa acquainted with the psychologist who smiled, nodded, and scribbled into a book whenever she spoke.

The next session was similar. With the psychologist and the psychiatrist both in the room. The psychiatrist spoke less this time and the psychologist conducted all of the interactions with Sansa.

By the fifth session, Sansa was becoming more comfortable with her.

“What is rape?” the psychologist asked her during the sixth session.

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “Did you speak with my uncle?” she asked, turning to the psychiatrist. 

The psychiatrist nodded. “He worries that what happened to you hurts you more than you’re letting on. I recommended that you see a psychologist and he agreed.” 

“I’m not hurt. I just don’t like talking about it,” Sansa denied. 

“Anyone would be hurt. An adult that you trusted and loved did something very hurtful to you. He raped you. And now you have to stand in court and tell everyone about it. You’re _frightened_.”

Sansa _was_ frightened. She was scared out of her mind. And she admitted it instead of denying it.

“I _am_ scared. But it wasn’t rape,” she mumbled. 

“Why wasn’t it rape?” the psychologist asked.

It was silent for a while as Sansa chewed her lip.

“Because… he was nice. And he was gentle. He tried not to hurt me,” Sansa finally said.

The psychologist nodded as she wrote in her book. “Tell me about your experience living with Petyr,” she said as she looked up.

The psychiatrist had asked before but Sansa had never been completely truthful. “He was kind and took care of me,” was the usual answer that she supplied. 

But now with the trial on her mind and her fear of disappointing everyone growing, she needed to unload. So she told the truth. It was easier when she remembered that she’d already told Sandor.

The psychiatrist and psychologist listened intently as she spoke about Petyr’s touches and kisses, sharing beds, and the special gifts he bought her that usually tended to be expensive jewelry, lingerie, or fancy revealing clothing.

By the time the session ended, Sansa was emotionally drained, albeit feeling much better than when she first walked in. 

“The psychiatrist wants me to see her every three months for updates. She prescribed me some pills to help me sleep but now I’m going to be seeing Dr. Missandei, the psychologist, regularly for psychotherapy,” Sansa told her uncle after they arrived home.

Uncle Benjen nodded. “Are you okay with that?” he asked.

“She’s nice,” Sansa answered.

“A package arrived for you. It’s in your room,” Uncle Benjen told her.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “For me?” she exclaimed. She hurried to her room brimming with excitement and curiosity.

The package was waiting on her bed and she turned it over eagerly, searching for the sender, but there wasn’t any indication.

She carefully opened the box, revealing a heavily wrapped object inside.

Sansa lifted it out, trying to guess what it was and from whom, as she slowly unwrapped it.

She gasped as a beautiful wooden bloodhound came into view. It was about twelve inches long, with brown and black coloring, and the most soulful eyes.

She noticed the letter next to it and picked it up.

 

To Little Bird,

I’ve been working on this for a while but I was debating whether it would be appropriate to give it to you. But it’s yours and you deserve it. I would say you’re just as brave as any knight. You inspired me to finally plant my butt down in a psychiatrist’s chair. I would never have done it had I not met you. You’re the bravest person I know.

Your Hound,

Sandor

 

“Oh Sandor,” Sansa murmured, smiling mistily.

She held the foot long wooden toy in her hands as she gazed at it in wonder. It was absolutely beautiful. A realistic replica so carefully and artistically crafted.

Her eyes caught its forepaws and she gasped. There was scarring on one of the hound’s forepaws. The scarring was on its left side, just like Sandor’s. 

She didn’t realize she was crying until her vision blurred and a tear drop splattered onto the toy hound. “You sad old hound,” she sniffled. “You’re just as broken as I am.”

Sansa curled up on her bed and buried her face into the side of the wooden toy shedding silent tears as it shielded her. When she had used up all of her tears, the hound was still pressed tightly against her face.

After night had fallen, she took the bloodhound with her to the terrace to show her uncle and brother.

Uncle Benjen didn’t seem surprised. 

“Your friend, Sandor, called me a few days ago and asked if he could send you a gift. I said why not? You need some cheering up,” Uncle Benjen revealed. 

The grin on Sansa’s face was hard to control. “He’s so sweet!” she gushed, thinking of how different Sandor was from Petyr. _His_ present didn’t lead to kisses and touches. And he had made it clear that he was wrong for kissing her. 

_“He took advantage of you,”_ she remembered Sandor’s rough rasp, _“and I did too when I kissed you.”_

Sansa wiggled into her sleeping bag with the hound pressed snugly against her, feeling light and happy. She gave the toy a light squeeze as she recalled Sandor’s letter.

‘You’re the bravest person I know’, he had written. She didn’t feel very brave but she could try.

“I can be brave,” Sansa whispered. She fell asleep a short while later with the hound clutched to her chest.


	36. Sansa

“I want to visit Petyr. I need to talk to him,” Sansa told Uncle Benjen the next day, as soon as she was showered and dressed.

“No,” Uncle Benjen didn’t even bother to consider her request.

“Please, Uncle Benjen. I have to know. I have to hear the truth from his mouth. That’s the only way I’ll be able to go up front in court and talk about what happened.” She looked at her uncle with pleading eyes while he stared back at her full of misgivings.

“Sansa,” Uncle Benjen finally sighed. “All I want to do is protect you, love. And allowing you near him goes against that.”

“It will be safe. People visit jails all the time. The guards will be there. _You_ will be there. You’ll be able to keep an eye on me,” she reasoned.

Uncle Benjen still appeared doubtful so she tried again.

“It’s a visiting room _full of people_ , Uncle Benjen,” she said. “I really need to do this so that I can move on.”

He mussed her hair and laid a kiss on her forehead. “Okay,” he conceded, but he didn’t look pleased. “I will call the case manager so that everything can be put in place for you to visit.”

A few days later, Sansa found herself walking through the doors of the correction facility.

She was tense and nervous as she entered, but she had her wooden hound with her, providing her comfort. After going through security and every other check-in procedure, she was finally led to a waiting room.  


“Nervous?” Uncle Benjen asked her. 

“Very,” she replied. Sansa looked at him when the guards called their names. “Don’t sit next to me,” she instructed. “Petyr won’t speak to me if you’re there.”

Uncle Benjen looked as if he wanted to call the whole thing off but he gave a brief nod.

“Sweetling,” Petyr looked pleased when he sat opposite her at the table in the visiting room. “So glad to see you.” 

Sansa felt a lump form in her throat and didn’t reply.

“You were the first person I put on my visitor’s list,” he told her.

She stared into his eyes trying to see the truth. “Did you do it all because you wanted me? Did you kill them because of me?” her lips trembled despite her effort and her grip tightened around the hound that was clutched in her hands. She pressed it against her trembling mouth.

Petyr studied her for a while before he replied.

“Cat and I grew up together as kids. I always loved her. I desired to marry her one day but she was dating Brandon Stark. 

“I heard Brandon Stark bragging about taking the virginity of some girl named Barbrey Dustin and confronted him about leading Cat on. He didn’t take it well. He was also older than me and bigger. After nearly killing me he went to the bar and drank himself into a stupor. His father went to pick him up and they both perished in a car accident that night.”

“Did you mess with the brakes in their car too?” Sansa demanded angrily.

There was a satisfied malicious gleam in Petyr’s eye as he continued on with his story. “Unfortunately I was in the hospital grievously injured. Cat visited and cried over me, she also cried for worthless Brandon Stark and his father. Sweet Cat was upset about the whole affair and I tried to comfort her, injured as I was.

“But then she decided to move on to Eddard Stark rather than me. I thought everything lost when she gave birth to a bunch of Stark children but you, my sweetling, were a jewel.

“Cat reborn. But more beautiful and more special. I knew that you were meant to be mine from the moment I saw your beautiful auburn hair flowing down your back and your huge crystalline eyes.”

Sansa shook her head. “But I wasn’t yours. I belonged to Mother and Father.”

Petyr only smirked. “Even when you were a little girl you loved me. Whenever I visited you were so happy. You would sit on my lap so that you could receive candy.”

Sansa shivered. “The night before the accident when you came over, you told me that soon you and I would get to be together all the time. I didn’t know what you meant and I worried, but I also thought I imagined it because I was sick and not thinking clearly. But even before that… when I saw you messing with Robin’s medicine...”

Petyr looked amused but Sansa was remembering…

_“Uncle Petyr, what are you doing?” Eight years old and curious, Sansa had crept out of bed unable to sleep. She had admonished herself the entire way down the gallery but it was thrilling to be as naughty as Arya for a change. Plus Uncle Petyr was here and he wouldn’t let her get into trouble._

_Her favorite uncle turned to look at her and his face lit up when he saw her. “There goes my sweetling.”_

__

Sansa had beamed happily before her attention was caught by what he held in his hands and now she was curious.

__

_“I’m going to give Robin his medicine,” Uncle Petyr replied._

_Sansa was alarmed. “But he already had medicine today, Aunt Lysa said so. Wouldn’t another dose hurt him? Mother said that it’s dangerous to take too much medicine.”_

_“Not if I’m careful, and I’m always careful,” Uncle Petyr winked at her._

 _But Sansa was worried. Mother had been very serious when she warned them about playing with medicine._

_Uncle Petyr noted her conflict and crouched down to her level. “Promise you won’t tell? No one would understand that I’m just trying to help him and I would get into so much trouble.”_

_After much deliberating, she finally nodded. “I promise.” Sansa crossed her heart._

 _Uncle Petyr’s eyes twinkled at her. “That’s my special girl.”_

“You messed with Robin’s medicine again, didn’t you?” Sansa accused. “The night of the accident you gave him too much so that he would be rushed to the hospital and Father would feel obliged to speed due to the emergency with Robin. You had everything planned out. Oh, I wish I told. When I first saw you messing with his medicine I should have.”

A tear fell from her eye and she wrapped her arms tightly around her hound as she drew comfort from it. 

Petyr’s eyes went to it. “Who gave you that?” he asked. 

“Someone better than you,” Sansa told him.

His eyes narrowed before a glint entered it. “Do you think about our special night?” he asked her. “I think about it often. I miss you.”

Sansa wanted to scream but she remained calm, the hound clutched a little tighter in her numb fingers.

“Did you mess up the brakes before or after you came to my room and told me that we would be together soon?” her voice was void of emotion as she questioned him.

“After,” Petyr replied casually. He didn’t seem to take her seriously at all. He’d controlled her for so long, he probably thought he still controlled her now.

“How did you send my siblings away?”

“Benjen Stark couldn’t be located after the accident but that worked to my advantage. His absence left Lysa in charge of you and your siblings. Lysa did anything I whispered into her ears. Didn’t even blink an eye when I told her that the other three were being sent away. She wanted you sent away too but I couldn’t allow that. I have friends in powerful places. And my friends know people in high places all around the world. I paid good money to make those adoptions happen." 

Sansa's skin crawled at the satisfied smirk that curved Petyr's mouth.

“Over seas adoption are often sketchy. Many times the children involved are stolen or have parents fighting to get them back to no avail. I knew that if enough money passed the right hands I could conduct my own adoptions. Money always wins, sweetling. Adoption agencies are businesses and the big fish wants a profit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think minors would actually be able to visit their offender in jail while awaiting trial, but since this is fanfiction… :D 
> 
> Also Sansa has her toy with her. Obviously that wouldn’t be allowed either.


	37. Sansa

“Once I had you all to myself I allowed Lysa and her sniveling son to live for two more years before discarding of them too,” Petyr said.

Sansa gasped. “You started the fire? But how? You were at the movies with me.” 

“A candle was left burning in one of the guest rooms, left at the edge of the table. It tilted as it burned and melted. I knew it was only a matter of time before the candle tipped over onto the bed. I left the house with you as soon as I lit the candle. Lysa loved her candles and always left them burning everywhere, any guest could attest to that.

“With Lysa out of the picture and Benjen Stark missing in action, I was in charge of managing the inheritance your parents left behind until you and your siblings reached the appointed age. 

“Unfortunately,” Petyr smirked, “Your siblings lost any claim to their inheritance when they were adopted.”

Her heart stopped as his words sank in.

“I hate you, Petyr,” it was low but he heard her. Sansa stood and turned her back on him, signaling to leave. Uncle Benjen was quickly at her side and they were led out. As soon as the door closed behind them she buried her face into his chest and dissolved into tears.

“What did that bastard say?” Uncle Benjen demanded. “Did he threaten you?”

Sansa shook her head.

Uncle Benjen hugged her until she took a deep breath and straightened up. “I want to press charges,” she told him, wiping away her tears and bracing her shoulders, “for the rape.”

When they arrived home, Sansa immediately sank into bed exhausted. She fell asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.

_“My special girl.” The sharp pain made her whimper. And his touches made her choke. His kisses were smothering. Another sharp jab tore through her, causing her to cry out. She just wanted it to be over..._

Sansa woke with a start, snatching up her hound and clutching it against her chest until the dream dissolved.

She checked the time, noting that she had been asleep for a few hours, before climbing out of bed and leaving her room in search of her uncle.

“Uncle Benjen?” she called out. She found him out on the terrace looking down at the city below.

“Sansa, what happened?” he demanded, noticing her distress.

“Don’t ever let him take me away,” Sansa whimpered. 

“He can’t. He’s locked up,” Uncle Benjen countered. 

“He _knows_ people. What if he has one of them come hurt me?” Her fear was real, pumping through her and causing her to tremble from head to toe.

“I’m going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen,” Uncle Benjen promised. 

“Petyr can do _anything_ ,” Sansa whispered. For the first time that idea terrified her. “Please don’t let him get me,” she moaned.

Her uncle led her to one of the lounge chairs to sit on and seated himself beside her, Sansa immediately snuggled into his side.

“Petyr said that Bran, Arya, and Jon lost their inheritance as soon as they were adopted.” Sansa’s eyes were panicked. “Is that true?”

“That’s usually the case if there isn’t a will. But your parents had a will,” Uncle Benjen said.

“Petyr was the executor of the will. He probably destroyed it,” Sansa told him.

Uncle Benjen shrugged. “There are several safeguarded copies. I have one. Important documents should have multiple copies. Just in case.”

His statement was a huge relief for Sansa and she sagged against him nearly faint with the news.

Later that evening, Sansa fired up the computer eager to write to Sandor. A routine that was quickly becoming a daily one.

 

Dear Sandor,

You won’t believe how brave I was today. I confronted Petyr in jail. I’m glad that I did it because I really needed that weight lifted. You wouldn’t believe the horrible things that he has done. I’m going to testify against him for _everything_ that I can. I hope that they lock him away forever — 

(A tear dropped onto the keyboard)

— I _hate_ him, Sansa typed, Baelish is a monster.

Your brave,

Little Bird

 

She sent the email, logged out, and shut down the computer before picking up the wooden toy waiting for her on the desk.

“I wish Sandor was here,” Sansa whispered to the hound. He was big and strong and tough. _I bet he could rip Petyr apart with his bare hands._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for any editing errors. I will get to them.


	38. Sansa

A date for the trial was finally set and as the date drew nearer, Uncle Benjen found more and more fun activities for them to do to keep Sansa’s mind off of it. 

Her days were filled with picnics and bike riding at Central Park, strolling through the High Line, dabbling in golf and gymnastics, jumping into foam pits, and even taking a go at ice skating at the Chelsea Piers. 

But Sansa had to admit that her favorite past time was spending hours swimming in the private pool that her uncle paid for her to use.

“I’m so tired,” she happily sighed when she returned home one evening after hours of practicing flips on a trampoline, then cannon balling and diving into an enormous foam pit, followed by an intense dodge ball face off with the other kids at the Chelsea Piers gym.

“Well you’ve been going nonstop all day. It’s only expected,” Uncle Benjen said.

“I’m doing rock climbing tomorrow,” Sansa eagerly announced. 

“You should try out HEMA,” Jon suggested. 

Sansa wrinkled her nose. “No thank you. That’s for you and Arya. I’m not into getting attacked with a blunt sword.” She grabbed an ice cream bar out of the freezer.

“We’re flying down to Sacramento this weekend for you to pack the items and clothing that you will keep,” Uncle Benjen stated. “So make sure that you put together a light carry-on.”

“Oh good,” Sansa said excitedly. “I’ve missed my things so much. Especially my laptop.”  


“Have fun,” Jon said. “Don’t return with your entire closet and then some.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Sansa asked. 

“I’m flying to London for a few days,” he informed.

“Why?” Sansa wanted to know, then she remembered about his adopted family. “Oh, okay,” she said awkwardly. 

“Sansa, adopted families aren’t a bad thing you know,” Jon stated. 

Sansa shrugged as she retreated to her room to change out of the outfit that she had worn out.

After changing, she went to Uncle Benjen to ask for permission to use the computer, but he answered before she could get a word out.

“Yes, Sansa. You may use the computer,” he said. 

Sansa flashed a huge grin. “Thanks!” 

Within minutes she was typing eagerly:

 

Dear Sandor,

Are you still in California? I’m flying down there Friday night. You _have_ to make time in your schedule to come over to my old house and see me. Or else I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again. If you do come, hopefully I don’t flutter into the front of your truck. Speaking of trucks, I forgot to ask, did you ever get your own back?

Your excited,

Little Bird

 

She shut down the computer happily, before going to the great room to watch some TV.

It was close to midnight when she made her way to the terrace after showering and brushing her teeth. “I’m so bruised from dodge ball,” Sansa said as she slid into her sleeping bag.

“Poor you,” Jon grunted. “My brain is bruised. I have been listening to lectures all day.”

“Bet you still know nothing,” she teased.

He reached his arm out of his sleeping bag to tickle her neck.

“Stop!” Sansa gasped between giggles, trying to wriggle away. “I’m going to bite you if you don’t stop.” 

_“Animal,"_ Jon feigned offense. 

“Shut up,” she told him, before snuggling back into her sleeping bag.

Sansa found nighttime difficult to get through. Not only did the quiet of night allow her to dwell on the guilt that she felt over the death of her family. _He killed them because of_ me. But the looming trial was triggering terrible flashbacks that robbed her of any peaceful sleep.

She had yet to take the pills the psychiatrist had prescribed to help her sleep, afraid that the potency would leave her trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake until the drug wore off.

So she lay there, with her hound tucked against her, staring up at the city lights blazing all around until a troubled sleep finally claimed her.

Friday arrived soon and Sansa gave Jon an enormous hug as she and Uncle Benjen prepared to head to the airport. “When are you coming back?” she inquired. He was leaving for the airport on Saturday.

“I will return next Friday,” he told her.

Sansa couldn’t help her pout at knowing he wouldn’t be home when she returned. “Okay,” she finally said, dejected. “I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too,” Jon said as he embraced her again. “Love you.”

“I love you more,” she told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Several hours later, Sansa was staring out of a window watching the ground grow smaller and smaller as the airplane took flight.

Within minutes they were soaring among the cotton candy looking clouds. She settled back against her chair. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when we land,” Sansa told Uncle Benjen as she shifted into a comfortable position. She fit her noise canceling headphones over her ears and shut her eyes.

“Are we here?” Sansa yawned and stretched as she stood up. 

“Come on, slowpoke,” Uncle Benjen said as he retrieved their carry-ons from the overhead. 

She stuck her tongue out at him as they exited the plane with the other passengers and made their way inside the terminal.

“Are we going to the house after checking in at the hotel?” Sansa inquired.

“I thought we might get something to eat first,” Uncle Benjen suggested, as they slowly made their way through the crush of fellow travelers, maneuvering to the front of the airport where they waited for the uber Uncle Benjen had called.

“I’ve missed it here,” Sansa sighed. “Especially the weather and the palm trees. The beaches. Everything.” They were in the uber, gliding through the pristine streets as they headed towards the hotel. 

Uncle Benjen looked at her. “You’ll get used to New York. It takes time.”

“I love New York. It’s exciting. But I loved it here too.” Sansa chewed her lip nervously.

Uncle Benjen gave her a sad smile. “I know the past couple months have been really difficult for you. Hell, the past four years actually. I’m sorry about that. No kid should have to go through all of that mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sansa said. “You’ve been my favorite part of the last couple months. You, Jon, Arya, and Bran.” _It’s all Petyr’s fault,_ she thought. Everything always came back to Petyr.


	39. Sansa

It was almost weird stepping into the estate that had sheltered her for the past two years. She’d been happy here, Sansa admitted, but that happiness was based on a wall of lies. And the truth had nearly crushed her when the wall crumbled.

_I’m much happier now. With Jon and Uncle Benjen._

The enormous house was empty and silent. Sansa kept expecting Petyr to casually stroll in at any second. 

Taking a deep breath, she made her way to her room. She still remembered her last night in here. She had been full of jittery nerves and butterflies in her stomach because she had planned all night about running away in the morning.

 _I’m glad that I did it._ Her lips curved up in a self satisfied smile.

Tapping on her chin as she studied her room that was filled with neatly organized items, she decided to start with the closet.

Sansa stepped into her huge walk in closet, passing a critical eye over the outfits as she debated what to keep, what to donate, and what to throw away.

Everything that she had outgrown would be donated, and she tended to outgrow clothes quickly. All of last year’s winter clothing were definitely getting donated since they would be too small by the time winter rolled back around.

Her spring clothes still fit. A majority consisted of skinny jeans, cardigans, vests, light knitted sweaters, hoodies, designer scarves, and woolen hats. She piled them together on the floor, separate from the winter clothing.

Sansa’s attention turned to her summer clothes and she froze. Tight daisy dukes, extra short mini skirts, bareback halter tops, and clingy cutoff shirts. Uncle Benjen would never allow her to keep these...

An hour and a half later, her items in the closet had been separated into three piles on the floor, each pile headed for a different destination.

She moved on to her dressers, opening them as she decided what to do with the contents. Her face turned a fiery shade of red as she opened one of the drawers containing her lingerie. She had several drawers full because Petyr loved buying them.

 _“Try them on for me. Let me you see you model them, sweetling,”_ Sansa could almost hear his voice and feel his roaming hands.

She grabbed the lingerie out of the drawer and dumped them with the other clothes that were getting thrown out. She did the same with the other drawers that were full of lingerie, before moving on to her socks, tank tops, and pajamas.

When all of her clothing had been emptied out into piles on the floor, she started folding up the clothes in the pile that she was keeping, and placing them into a suitcase.  


Uncle Benjen knocked on the open door before entering. “Do you need help, love?” he inquired. 

Sansa pointed at the pile that she was throwing away. “Can you put those in the garbage bag?” she asked. She went back to folding up her clothes that she was keeping and placing them into the suitcase, while Uncle Benjen started disposing of the pile destined for the trash.

“That sick fuck,” she heard him curse a while later, after he picked up several handfuls of skimpy clothing.

“I finished with everything that I’m packing today,” Sansa stated several hours later. “I’m finishing up the rest tomorrow and I also want to donate my dressers and the bed frame. My mattress could be donated too, it’s new.” She looked at her uncle.

He nodded. “You can go wash your hands, we will be heading to dinner soon.”

Sansa stood up and went to the bathroom to wash up before reentering her room. “Can I go outside?” she asked. 

“If you don’t leave the property,” Uncle Benjen replied. 

“I won’t,” she promised. She hurried out of the room, through the landing, and made her way down the curved stairs, running down the grand foyer and throwing open the front doors.

It was still light outside, although it was after eight. The gentle California glow washed golden light over the yard and estate.

Sansa made her way down the circular yard, heading towards the fountain in the middle.

“Little bird.” The name seemed to have been carried by the wind as it reached her ears. Sansa quickly turned around, noticing a figure standing far off, near the tree lined gate. She ran towards it as a grin broke across her face. 

"Sandor!” Sansa yelled jumping into his arms. He let out a rough bark of laughter as she squeezed him tightly.

“Didn’t think you’d be so happy to see me, little bird.”

She blushed and straightened her shirt when he placed her gently down on the ground.

“You’ve gotten taller,” he observed gruffly.

“Have I?” Sansa replied. "I’ll be sixteen in two months.”

“Still a child,” Sandor stated.

She made a face at him.

“You look better. Happier,” he said.

Sansa smiled. “I am. I love my family. I love living with them. And I love that Arya and Bran visited… I also love my hound. I love him so much. Thank you for giving him to me,” she said shyly.

“No problem, little bird,” Sandor said, his eyes appeared gentle as he looked down at her.

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Sansa blurted out.

“I don’t think your uncle would like that,” Sandor remarked.

“Uncle Benjen won’t mind,” Sansa insisted. “He knows you won’t hurt me like Petyr.” She turned and started to make her way to the house, before she stopped. “Sandor,” she said as she turned back to him. “Will you come to the trial?”

He looked surprised before a warm expression settled on his face. “I won’t miss it for the world,” he promised.

Sansa gave him a sweet smile before she made her way to the house. “Uncle Benjen,” she called, hurrying up the stairs. He was standing up as she entered the room.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Can Sandor come to dinner with us?” she pleaded. “Please? He’s outside and I told him that I would ask.”

Uncle Benjen was quiet for a while before he said okay.

Sansa gave a little jump as she squealed. “Thank you!” she gave her uncle a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying back outside. “Sandor, Uncle Benjen said yes! I told you that he would.” She beamed up at him.

“I love seeing you happy,” Sandor’s voice was quiet and his words genuine.

His words caused warmth to spread through her chest. “I would be happier once the trial is done,” Sansa shared. “Then I won’t feel so anxious anymore.”

A gust of wind blew, sending her hair flying into her face and blocking her view. Sansa giggled at the abruptness of the situation.

Sandor stepped forward, gently stroking back the hair in her face, before he jerked his hand away and stepped back awkwardly. “Sorry,” he rasped. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“Why not?” Sansa asked, her brows furrowed.

“It’s not appropriate,” Sandor replied.

“That’s not a bad touch,” Sansa defended. “My psychologist told me what bad touches are.”

“We need to have boundaries,” he told her. “Appropriate boundaries between an adult and child. I’ll wait for your uncle in the truck.”

Sansa bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t scared of Sandor at all. And she could tell that setting up boundaries was important to him because of what had happened in the past. “You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. _You’re good._

“No, little bird,” Sandor agreed, “I won’t hurt you.” He gave her a small nod before he made his way to his truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the conversation is awkward. Every conversation with Sandor is awkward.
> 
> P.S. The next chapter will be up tomorrow. It's been a headache to write.


	40. Sansa

_Petyr looked at her. “This is all your fault, sweetling. I killed them because of you.”_

_Sansa looked down at her hands which were coated in blood._

_“Their blood are on your hands,” Petyr whispered fiercely._

_“No!” she screamed, trying to wipe her hands clean. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t want this!” But she was alone now and Sansa fell to her knees sobbing._

She woke from her nightmare with a gasp as strong hands grasped her by the shoulders and gently shook her, before clasping her in a safe embrace. “Father?” Sansa whimpered, still lost in her guilt.

“Uncle Benjen,” the voice corrected.

Sansa forced her eyes open. “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous because the trial’s today,” she sniffled.

“Are you going to be able to testify?” Uncle Benjen asked.

Sansa nodded. 

Her uncle gave her forehead a kiss before he stood. “Get dressed and eat some breakfast, love. It might help you feel better,” he told her, before exiting her room.

Sansa sighed as she stood up. Her heart was pounding and she was trembling all over. Despite what she led her uncle to believe, she wasn’t really sure that she was going to be able to go up to the witness box and testify. 

Today, Petyr was going to be trialed for the murders that he had committed, and right after would be the trial for the rape.

Breakfast that morning looked delicious as usual, but Sansa hardly tasted it, queasy as she was.

“We’re in the same boat. I’m testifying today too,” Jon said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

The reminder made Sansa feel a little better, loosening up a bit of the tightness that was constricting her chest.

The little calm that she had managed to obtain dissipated as soon as they stepped into the courtroom, and then the anxiety overwhelmed her again.

Sansa’s mood lifted a little when she spotted Sandor a couple rows behind Uncle Benjen, Jon, and her. Sansa gave him an enthusiastic wave which he returned.

She sat with her hound clutched in her lap as the evidence supporting the premeditated murder claims were presented. 

Soon Detective Tarth was testifying about the investigation that she had conducted and what she had dug up.

When Jon went up, Sansa’s stomach jumped to her throat. _I’ll be next,_ she thought, panicked.

Her mind went blank and her body went into autopilot as she stepped up to the witness box when she was called. She recited her testimony, walking through each memory as if it was playing out in front of her. She answered the questions that were asked, retaining them long enough to answer before her mind blanked out again.

“Hey, are you okay?” Uncle Benjen asked, steadying her as she stumbled back to him when her testimony was over.

“I think I almost fainted,” Sansa answered truthfully. “I don’t remember anything that happened since I walked up to the witness box.”

“I think it’s time to get you home and into bed,” he decided.

The next two trial days flew quickly by, until the fourth day, the day which Sansa was to testify about the inn.

Her nerves from the first day assaulted her with an intensity that left her dry heaving over the toilet.

“What if I’m too sick to testify?” she tried.

“Are you?” Uncle Benjen returned.

“I might be,” she said. But her need to get it over with eventually outweighed her fear, and Sansa dressed and ate breakfast before they headed to court.

The evidence was presented first, and there was an air of fury about Uncle Benjen as a picture of the blood stained sheet from the inn was presented as evidence. 

Sansa stared down at her lap and her nails dug into her palms as she squeezed her hands tightly.

She was surprised when Sandor was called up to testify, and finally dragged her eyes up from her lap to focus her attention on him in the witness box.

“She was alone in the room when I entered,” his rough rasp seemed to fill the courtroom.

“What was the complainant doing?” the judge asked.

“She was sleeping.”

Sansa chewed her lip as she processed the information. No wonder she hadn’t seen him at the inn. Sandor was gone when she’d woken up. Only the cops had been there. A female cop had been stroking her hair asking her if she was alright. When they’d taken her to the ambulance, Uncle Benjen and Jon had been outside.

She tried to infuse herself with confidence when it was her turn to head to the witness box. “Here, Sandor, hold him for me,” Sansa walked a few rows back to hand Sandor the hound before she was led away.

Her nerves failed her as soon as she stood facing the court attendees and Sansa started to tremble. She couldn’t remember any of what occurred when she last stood here. It seemed like a long forgotten dream now. But this moment seemed all too real.

Petyr was sitting close by, looking at her, his grey-green boring into hers and she quickly jerked her eyes away as her heart rate picked up in panic. She didn’t remember his presence being so prominent when she testified on the first day, but then again, she couldn’t remember any part of her previous testimony.

 _I can’t do this._

“Do you need a moment?” someone was asking.

_Help me._

Petyr was still staring at her and she felt like throwing up. 

_I didn’t want to have to hate you._

Her head was spinning and flashbacks ran on repeat through her mind.

Her family in the car. Petyr on the phone. Petyr on top of her kissing and touching her. Petyr with Robin’s medicine. The screams as the car went airborne. The feeling of suffocation as Petyr repeatedly pushed into her. Aunt Lysa hysterical on the phone about Robin being rushed to the hospital.

Tears came to her eyes. 

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

Everyone was staring at her.

_I want to go home._

Someone cleared his throat loudly and she looked toward the sound. Her eyes landing on Uncle Benjen.

Uncle Benjen winked before smiling encouragingly at her. Jon gave her a thumbs up. 

Her eyes gratefully roamed over them before settling on Sandor who sat two rows behind them. 

Sandor held up her hound and gave her a thumbs up. 

Feeling more confident, Sansa gave a nod to signify that she was ready.

Numbly she placed her palm on the bible and swore to tell the truth.

“Could you tell the jury your name?”

“Sansa Stark.”

“And your age?”

“Fifteen.”

“What city do you live in?”

“New York City.”

“And before that?”

“Sacramento.”

“With the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you known the defendant?”

“Since I was born,” Sansa whispered. Then cleared her throat and tried again in a louder and clearer voice.

“What was your relationship like with the defendant?”

Sansa chewed her lip nervously. “Petyr was always kind to me. He’s my uncle by marriage and I was always his favorite. Once my family was d-dead, he took care of me and raised me. I was happy living with him, but… he also liked to do things with me too.”

“What kind of things?”

“Petyr loved kissing me on the lips, especially when he bought me a gift. He liked for me to model it for him and then sit on his lap so that he could touch me and kiss me. Sometimes we would share beds. He would sleep in my bed when I was upset about something or I would sleep in his bed, usually on his birthday or valentines day.”

“Can you tell us what happened on the night that you ended up at the inn with the defendant?”

Sansa described the phone call, meeting Petyr in the car, falling asleep, realizing they were on the highway, Petyr taking her phone after Jon called, the heavy rain, taking a bath to warm up, changing into Petyr’s shirt because her clothes were drenched, sharing a bed with Petyr.

“Can you tell us where the defendant touched you?”

“Everywhere,” Sansa whispered, before repeating herself in a louder voice. “Between my legs. My breasts.”

“Was there penetration involved?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe how it occurred?”

Sansa recounted the events.

“At anytime during the incident in the inn did you say ‘no’ to the defendant or let him know that you didn’t like what was going on?”

“No.”

“So you allowed the defendant to engage in sexual acts with you.”

Sansa looked at Uncle Benjen before she looked down. “Yes,” she answered.

 _“The jury are not trying to scare you. They already know Baelish is in the wrong because you’re a child. Just answer the questions and once the trial is done Baelish will be locked away in prison,”_ Detective Tarth had whispered to her earlier that morning. Sansa focused on that as she answered the questions directed at her.

It was with numb legs that she stumbled from the witness box when she was finally dismissed. The court was taking a break and people began to file out of the room. Sansa made her way to Jon and Uncle Benjen who were waiting for her.

“You were awesome,” Uncle Benjen stated, holding her in a bear hug. Sansa was filled with relief that her testimony was over and she squeezed him back tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“Where’s Sandor?” Sansa asked, looking around as they walked out the doors to the lobby beyond.

“He’s over there,” Jon said pointing.

“I need to go thank him,” Sansa told them, before walking over to Sandor. But she was shy when she arrived.

“Here,” Sandor handed the hound back to her. “Wouldn’t want him to get separated from his rightful owner.” 

Sansa took the hound from him and then wrapped her arms around Sandor in a hug. “Thank you for coming, Sandor,” she told him. 

“I promised I would come,” he said, returning her hug. “You were really brave.”

Sansa stroked the hound’s scars softly. “I _was_ so brave today, wasn’t I?” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father...
> 
> I tried to incorporate that line from the books (sort of).


	41. Sansa

It was a quiet and tense atmosphere inside the courtroom during the final date of the trial, as they waited to hear the verdict. 

Sansa had one arm wrapped around her hound and the other clutched in Uncle Benjen’s tight grip as they waited.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. Sansa’s ears began to buzz as she heard the word guilty, she gasped turning to Uncle Benjen as her eyes pooled with tears, but he had already sprung out his seat swooping her up in a bear hug as another guilty verdict reached their ears.

“We won,” Jon’s voice was brimming with emotion as he joined in the hug.

A crowd quickly congregated around their row as people came to offer their congratulations, exchanging hearty handshakes, hugs, and back claps.

Sansa was wrapped up in so many hugs that she lost count of who hugged her. She laughed happily when she finally collapsed on the bench. “I think this is the best day ever,” she thrilled.

“Who’s ready for some celebratory ice cream?” Uncle Benjen asked.

“And pizza,” Sansa interjected.

There were happy cheers of approval as they all agreed to meet up at a nearby pizza and ice cream parlor.

Several smaller tables were pushed together to accommodate their large party, and large slices of pizza with different toppings were passed around until everyone had eaten their full. Next came ice cream, which some turned down but Sansa and Jon helped themselves to seconds.

Sansa had just finished her ice cream as Sandor stood up to take his leave. She stood up too and made her way over to him. “Bye Sandor,” she said, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing me to New York. Thank you for finding me at the inn. Thank you for visiting me in the hospital. Thank you for coming to the trial. And thank you for the hound. If I remember more things to thank you for I’ll include them when I email you.”

Sandor’s rough laughter vibrated through her ears and Sansa squeezed him tighter before releasing him with a misty smile. 

They were both surprised when Uncle Benjen and Jon approached to shake Sandor’s hand and acknowledge his role in helping them reach this point. Jon gave a respectful nod to Sandor before Sandor turned and departed after receiving one last hug from Sansa. 

Back at the table, everyone had stuffed themselves full and quiet conversations were being conducted in low murmurs. Uncle Benjen nudged the family lawyer whom he had invited. With a nod the man stood up and followed them to an unoccupied table for a private conversation.

“So what is your view on the adoption? Would it be wise to go ahead and file adoption claims for Arya and Bran? Or wiser to wait a few months after the high of this trail has died down?” It was straight to business.

Sansa listened intently, her eyes on the lawyer as he pondered Uncle Benjen’s words. His expression didn’t look promising.

“Realistically? Don’t count on getting the kids back,” the lawyer finally spoke. “Getting overseas adoptions repealed is difficult enough for birth parents, let alone an uncle. My advice would be to get on good terms with the adopted parents and work out an arrangement where the kids can visit several times a year and keep in contact through Skype and FaceTime when they’re not visiting. 

“That’s what is healthier for everyone. A harsh custody battle to remove children from loving homes does more harm than good. Not to mention the amount of guilt the children will eventually feel at tearing apart the families that they have been a part of for the last four years.”

Sansa’s heart sank. This was not what she wanted to hear. She was quiet on the way back home, mulling over what the lawyer had stated. Jon had not spoken one word since, but his brooding expression was already in place.

During dinner time, Uncle Benjen revealed his decision. “I’ve decided not to pursue getting the adoptions repealed. I agree that a custody battle would be harsh, difficult, and drawn out, which would result in inflicting more emotional scars on everyone. And that is exactly what I want to avoid.”

Sansa looked at Jon, ready to take his lead. But his face was impassive as he focused on what Uncle Benjen was saying.

“My goal is for Arya and Bran to be happy and to minimize any trauma that they may have. And I cannot in good faith draw them into a custody battle that has a high potential to turn nasty. But I will reach out to their adopted parents about having the kids visit us often. If not directly on holidays, then the days leading up to holidays, birthdays, occasions like that. And also daily Skype sessions if possible. We’ll try to keep in touch with them however necessary.” Uncle Benjen was very firm about that.

Sansa swallowed with difficulty. She was sorely disappointed but she understood. They had to protect the psychological well being of Arya and Bran. “Can we call their adopted parents and schedule a three way Skype with Bran and Arya tomorrow?” she asked.

“We’ll try. If not tomorrow then sometime this week, definitely,” Uncle Benjen confirmed.

That night as Sansa lay in her sleeping bag, she found it impossible to sleep. She had naively believed that once the trial was over, all of her stress would be gone and sleep would easily come to her. But now she found it difficult to settle her hyperactive mind as it buzzed with loads of information. So she lay awake mulling over her uncle’s decision not to pursue overturning the adoption, then her mind went back to recounting the trial, before it settled on the man that had started it all.

“Uncle Benjen,” Sansa whispered to her uncle who was still awake. “Why did Mother trust Petyr and keep him close even though he was obsessed with her? Father never liked him and yet he still allowed Petyr close too.” That question had been bothering Sansa for a while. How could her mother who had been so consumed with love for her family not have realized the threat that Petyr posed to them? And how come Father never stopped it?

It was quiet for so long that Sansa thought her uncle wouldn’t answer, but finally he spoke. 

“I think once upon a time, Baelish’s love was pure. He was a kid that genuinely loved a girl and nearly died for her. But as he grew older, his bitterness over losing her tainted and corrupted his love and transformed it into a dark obsession for the girl that got away. Your mother was blind to what he had become, perhaps because he hid it so well. Catelyn only saw the boy she once knew. Ned loved his wife and wanted her happy, even if it meant tolerating Baelish, and Baelish blindsided them both. We know how that story ended.” Uncle Benjen’s voice was solemn.

Sansa sighed. “I just wish...that all of this never happened.” 

There was a long silence as they each were absorbed in their own reflection on the paths their lives had taken. The tragedies, the happiness, and the bittersweet moments in between. And with the silence surrounding her, Sansa finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye! Wrapping up on a bittersweet note. Things aren’t really happy but they’re not really sad either. Sansa reflecting on what led to the tragedies that she experienced in life.


	42. Sandor

“You seem different, Sandor.” His sister was studying him with a curious stare as if he was a familiar puzzle that suddenly didn’t fit together quite right. The two had been separated after their parents’ deaths, his sister entering foster care while he was placed in a group home, too angry and violent for any family to take on. 

As an angry twelve year old, hurt and bitter, Sandor often thought of his sister as he survived in the youth home with only his memories for company. Any memory of his mother was too painful to dwell on, so it was thoughts of his innocent little sister that had kept him sane for a while. Only seven years old and she had been his entire world. 

After a while, believing that he would never see her again, Sandor had convinced himself that it was for the best. She was better off without him. Without any of them. Better for her to forget the broken family that she had been born into. As the years went by, it became easier to not think of her. Not thinking of her was the only way to relieve the pain that her memory induced. 

But somehow she found him years later. The sight of her had nearly brought a twenty-two year old Sandor to his knees; frozen in shock and overwhelmed as he took in the seventeen year old young lady his sister had grown into. Brilliant and whole. Untainted. No longer the little girl with missing front teeth and pigtails. When she had tried to rebuild their relationship, Sandor bailed, afraid to contaminate someone so pure. 

Now she was twenty-seven and they weren’t as close as Sandor would have liked and he regretted it deeply. He had missed out on witnessing her develop and blossom into an incredible human being. His therapy sessions had inspired him to reach out to her and try to rebuild the connection that they once shared. Sandor still harbored his doubts about whether his presence in her life was the best thing for her, but he was no longer chased away by burning self hate. He was ready to attempt to mend what was broken and his sweet sister was willing to give him that chance.

This was the longest amount of time that he had spent with her other than when he’d driven to Chicago to visit her after she’d fallen ill with a serious case of the flu. _Chicago,_ the thought caused a faint smile to flicker across Sandor’s lips. The day he was to drive back to California he had ran into the little bird and ended up flipping around his entire schedule just to get her safely to her brother’s. He didn’t regret it one bit. The little bird had helped him more than he had helped her.

“I’m almost saintlike now. Do you think I could become a monk?” Sandor asked in response to his sister’s statement. 

There was a twinkle in her grey eyes as a smile spread across her face. “I’m so happy about your happiness. I used to pray for you when I was in my teens. I prayed for you to find peace. And that you would find _me_ when you were ready and we could be brother and sister again.”

An unfamiliar lump formed in his throat as he saw the hope that shone in her eyes. Gently he took her hand, feeling undeserving, but unbelievably grateful. “I think your prayers helped,” Sandor told her. “Your prayers and a little bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Sandor needed some sense of closure


	43. Epilogue

A shriek filled his eardrum and Sandor barely held back a curse. He rubbed his ear wondering how something so tiny could release such an earsplitting noise. 

The squirming bundle in his arm shrieked again, grabbing at his hair to emphasize his point as he pointed towards the humongous Christmas tree nearby, just in case the message was not clear the first time.

Sandor chuckled, “Okay, buddy,” he complied, carrying the tiny tot towards the tree. 

The little one instantly ceased his whining, pudgy hands clapping excitedly as the enormous Christmas tree drew nearer. It was covered in hundreds of dazzling lights and breathtaking ornaments that caught his attention. Snowflakes were sprinkled throughout its evergreen leaves, adding to the spectacular sight.

The baby laughed merrily as he held out his arms, reaching for the tree. It was the day before Christmas eve and Sandor had taken his sister and nephew on a trip to New York City to witness the magic of Christmas in New York. From Times Square to Rockefeller Center to Radio City, the big apple had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Enchanting and dazzling, lighting his nephew’s eyes up with wonder.

His sister appeared by his side, her eyes sparkling almost as bright as her son’s. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she breathed in awe. The three of them stared up at the tree, as bewitched as the other onlookers who snapped away capturing pictures of the tree, or stood in contentment with their loved ones. “We’re going to have to return tomorrow to ice skate.”

“With the baby?” Sandor laughed.

“I’ll carry him,” his sister insisted.

Sandor gave her a look as he held his nephew tighter. “We’ll both fall down and take him down with us.”

“I was jesting, Sandor. If only we could bring his stroller onto the ice. That would be fun, wouldn’t it little buddy?” she lightly tickled the tot’s chin, causing him to squeal with laughter.

It was a peaceful night when they returned to the hotel. The baby was snoozing away, worn down from the excitement of the day, and with a gentle kiss to his cheek his sister had set off to bed, her son nestled securely in her arms. “I think I will stay in tomorrow,” she sleepily informed him between yawns before the bedroom door shut behind her.

Sandor sometimes wondered how he managed to contain the love that he felt for the two inside of him. It was an overwhelming love. An overpowering one that he often felt that he could burst from. Close to dropping from sleep himself, he decided to dedicate a few minutes to quickly looking through his email. There were emails from customers, vendors that he received some of his supplies from, and… the little bird. A smile broke across his tired face.

They still kept in touch, writing each other every few weeks now that the little bird was in college and busy with her studies. But it was the holidays, and with her free time the emails arrived more frequently. He quickly read her message, one line standing out to him most:

 

Take me ice skating tomorrow. 

 

Sandor read the line again as a feeling he couldn’t identify began to course through his body. Anxiety, panic, nerves. Most likely. But there was also anticipation. And excitement mixed with wariness.

Just yesterday he had replied to an email she sent, and in his reply he had informed her of his arrival in New York City with his family. He didn’t know why he had waited so long to tell her when they’d been in the same city for a few days already. Two years had passed since he last saw her face-to-face and although they had remained close friends through email, he wasn’t sure how she would react to seeing him again.

It turned out that she was excited. She squealed and hugged him tightly. “Sandor,” she greeted when they separated. She beamed up at him.

Sandor was speechless for a while as the radiance of the beautiful young lady washed over him. His little bird. But she wasn’t so little anymore.

“You’ve grown,” was the only thing he could get out.

She didn’t seem to mind. She just rolled her eyes and giggled. “Of course,” she said.

“How’s your family?” That was better.

“Arya and Bran are visiting next week.” Even though she wasn’t a child anymore, she bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet as she shared the information. 

Her joy was infectious, lifting up the corners of his mouth into a smile that he didn’t want to hold back.

“Uncle Benjen is great as always and… Jon has a girlfriend,” she revealed, her nose slightly wrinkled. “Her name’s Ygritte.”

Sandor grunted in reply but she seemed satisfied with the response as she continued on, suddenly fidgeting. 

“I realized a while ago that when I turned eighteen, I wouldn’t mind kissing you again,” the little bird said, her face blushing furiously. “And well… I’m eighteen.” She stared up at him her eyes luminous and shy. She was worrying her bottom lip in an adorable matter and it tugged at his heart. 

She was so young and it frightened him. He could still remember everything that she had gone through two years ago as if the events had occurred yesterday. Sandor wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to hug her and let her know how much he appreciated her before sending her on her way to find a boy closer to her age. But she looked at him so sweetly, so hopefully, saying that she wanted him to kiss her.

“Are you sure, little bird?” he asked, unwilling to take advantage of her.

She nodded and still Sandor hesitated. 

“It’s just one kiss, Sandor. Nothing has to result from it. I promise.” Her voice was a sweet whisper, saying everything that his heart craved. 

She leaned in first, taking control of the experience as she rose up on tiptoe and her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips pressed against his gingerly and sweet. She seemed hesitant at first before becoming more confident and sinking into the kiss. 

The kiss was innocent and gentle and womanly and seductive all at the same time. As she moved her lips against his, he realized that his little bird had developed into a young woman. Gently he broke the kiss, stroking her hair back as his eyes roamed over her flushed cheeks and gently swollen rosebud lips. Her crystalline eyes threatened to swallow him whole. Sandor gulped, but said the words that needed to be said.

“It won’t ever happen, little bird,” his tone was tender as he stared into her eyes. It was best to let her know and not lead her along about anything ever happening between them.

She smiled up at him still appearing dazed, before her head cleared and she straightened herself. “I know. But thank you, Sandor. I will treasure it.”

As he listened to her words, he realized he had held himself back from settling with another lady, wondering if when the little bird was of age if there would be a possibility of something more than friendship blossoming. But now he knew that as deep as she had burrowed herself into his heart, he couldn’t do it. He would never rob her of finding a boy her age that could provide her a bright happy future, free from any shared past trauma.

Their kiss had been freeing in a way. It was a letting go. Accepting that there would never be a future between them and giving himself permission to move on.

“Merry Christmas eve, Sandor,” she said softly. “It’s a shame that we weren’t under a mistletoe.”

Sandor allowed himself to memorize her glowing features for a while, knowing that he would never forget how she looked in this moment, before he gently took her arm. “Let’s attempt some ice skating, shall we?” he asked her.

She smiled prettily at him. “We shall.”

The little bird’s laughter filled his ears as she held on to him while they slowly made their way around the ice rink. She was a better skater than him but was still far from a pro. 

“Sandor, don’t let me fall!” she squealed as her legs suddenly wobbled.

“Never,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want to make the epilogue too long. Hope it still brought a sense of closure.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to widen my Game of Thrones fan fiction horizon so I attempted to write an alternate universe modern fic centered around Sansa (of course) and I even mixed up the characters. Rather than Ramsay (my sick fascination), it’s Petyr Baelish and Sandor Clegane that are the males in her life, lol. Enjoy.
> 
> P.S. I don’t ship Sansa with anyone so I hope that I don’t offend shippers that do ship her with these characters.
> 
> Note: Yes, this Sansa is way more naive than canon, but she also has not been surrounded by killers, or tortured and brutalized like canon. Nor is she aware that someone she put her trust in murdered her family. This Sansa has experienced sadness but not betrayal or everyday terror and fear for her life. She didn’t have to learn to lie and hide her true feelings just to stay alive. She’s not learning to manipulate and deceive, but rather she is being manipulated, over sheltered, overprotected, and smothered. So yes she’s more naive and weak, but I think it’s understandable.


End file.
